


Hardly Mine

by junipernapalm



Series: Hardly Mine [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Character Death, F/M, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:06:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junipernapalm/pseuds/junipernapalm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU. Grad student Jean Kirstein might have met his match with the equally stubborn Sasha Braus. It might just take a bit of work from his best friend Marco Bodt to get the two together. Jeansasha. Unrequited Jeanmarco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jean Kirstein was what one would describe as an asshole. A total egotistical shithead. A pain-in-the-ass, prick and motherfucker. He heard it all. Nothing anyone could say about him would seem new to him. People murmured that he probably was the most hated TA on campus, and he would agree. A little part of him hated himself just as much as anyone else did, but he ignored it- part of the egoist in him, he admitted.

“Fuckers,” he said while taking a long drag from his cigarette, looking at some of the undergrads running around and basically whining about some shit professor.

“You shouldn’t talk like that in front of the kids.”

Jean turned around and noticed his best friend Marco Bott next to him, carrying a tattered copy of some philosophy book.  _Ecce Homo_. Jean nodded and pointed at the book.

“Smith’s got you reading something else?” Jean asked.

“Nah. Just picking up something outside of my normal stuff. Plus, Smith isn’t my advisor anymore. Is he still yours?” Marco said.

“Unfortunately. Guy rides my ass constantly.”

“It’s because he thinks you’ve got potential.”

“Say that again after he rips my thesis a new one. What else am I going to do? It’s not like he cares about post-structuralism anyway. I don’t know why they bothered making him my advisor.”

“He requested you and like a handful of others. Be happy. He’s one of the most respected faculty members. Plus he’s nicer than Shadis.”

“That’s hard to believe. Wait- you’ve got Shadis now?”

“Yeah. He’s not bad, but he’s kind of not into it as much. I think he gets a kick out of lecturing the undergrads and terrifying them, which is unfortunate for me.”

“Shut up. Those fuckers love you, and you know it.”

Jean met Marco when they were undergrads, at the same university they now did graduate work at. A couple of drunken encounters at some frat parties made them fast friends and eventual roommates. They started with different majors, Jean on a fast track with the business school and Marco enjoying a brief time with the biology department, before both decided to go with the dead-end route of philosophy after the two took an intro class some time in their second year. Neither one regretted it though.

“Hey, if you’re not busy, I hear Connie’s got some thing tonight,” Marco said.

“Why would I want to go drink with Connie? You know I fucking hate most of the people we hung out with in undergrad,” Jean said.

Marco laughed and said, “Mikasa is going to be there.”

Jean couldn’t even reply fast enough with a, “We’re going.”

“You know that means Eren is also going to be there.”

“Shit… That fucker, he’s going to be on top of her all night.”

“They are kind of seeing each other. I’m just saying.”

“We’re still going. But you’re going to have to make sure I don’t get too drunk. I have to proctor one of Smith’s exams at eight tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to ask. You know I always have your back.”

 

Jean and Marco arrived at the bar late because their ability to find street parking was less than great. The bar was one of the old bars everyone in the college gang used to go to when they lived downtown. Just like in the old days, the bar jammed in too many people, and you could hardly hear anyone or enjoy your drink in peace. The drinks were sort of overpriced, but then again so was every other bar in this area. Connie picked this bar, and nothing about his choices in bars were a surprise to Jean. To say the least, Jean despised this bar.

Connie greeted Jean and Marco first, slapping their backs with some of Connie’s beer splashing on Jean’s jacket. He led them back to the booth that he was sharing with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. They were already sharing a pitcher and chatting before Jean and Marco slid into the booth. Connie poured them a couple glasses and passed them on.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got a friend that you guys might not know coming in. She’ll probably be late though,” Connie said as he took a swig from his glass.

“Does she work with you?” Marco asked.

“Nah, we met in a macroeconomics class in college years before. She’s been to this bar with me a couple times. So you might know her. But who cares! We have to finish this pitcher. Jaeger got a job, and he’s paying for this.”

“Hey! I didn’t agree to that,” Eren said.

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay for some of it too,” Armin said.

Jean took a sip from his beer and recoiled a bit. He thought he was a little too old to be having beer this shitty. He hadn’t had this kind of beer since he was underage and too cheap to buy something better.

“Hey Jaeger, does your paycheck prevent you from buying shit that doesn’t taste like piss?” Jean said.

Eren, whose history with Jean had always been rocky, flared up and slapped the table.

“Fuck off Jean. I don’t see you buying beer for us,” Eren said.

Jean shrugged and smirked at Eren. He admitted he got a bit of thrill from pissing off Eren. The kid took himself too seriously. Maybe that’s why Jean wasn’t surprised that Eren just got a job with Senator Pixis’ reelection campaign. Jean thought most guys in the politics game were blowhards. Unfortunately, Mikasa was also working on the same campaign.

“I’m a poor grad student. Give me a break. Babysitting kids who think they’re adults and being my advisor’s lackey doesn’t exactly mean I sit on a pile of cash at the end of the day,” Jean said.

“Your fault for choosing a shit major,” Connie said.

Eren laughed before Mikasa turned to him and shook her head to make him stop. Despite apparently being Eren’s girlfriend, Mikasa always looked more like a babysitter or mom for Eren in Jean’s eyes. It was shit like that, which made Jean upset that those two were dating. He thought- no- he knew that he would have been a better boyfriend, but no matter what he did, Mikasa was always out of his reach. Marco said it was because Mikasa was so emotionally distant, but Jean chalked that answer up as Marco being way too nice to Jean- and the reality being that she would never be caught dating an asshole like himself.

“How’s the thesis going?” Armin asked.

Marco finished his drink and laughed at the question.

“I don’t know, but I think mine is going better than Jean’s,” Marco said.

“Marco changed advisors. So he doesn’t have to deal with the bullshit that Smith deals me,” Jean said.

“Smith? Like as in Erwin Smith?” Armin asked.

“The one and only.”

“I had some friends say he never takes on grad students. Or he does, but then he dumps them on some of the newer faculty.”

“Jean is lucky. Smith likes Jean’s work. So he’s like one of the only students Smith’s advising,” Marco said.

“Marco…” Jean said.

Jean didn’t feel like telling Marco to shut up, but Marco caught on quickly. Stuff like this always made Marco Jean’s closest friend- no one knew Jean better.

“Let’s stop talking about grad school. I already talk enough about it as is. Armin, tell us about that defense contract you’re working on,” Marco said.

Unsurprisingly, Armin, who had been magna cum laude of their graduating class, got a job working with some top-secret military group. Unlike everyone else in the group, he was offered the job right after graduating without much of an interview. To add to that, Armin also started working on his grad work on international public policy with an emphasis in conflict resolution. It was enough to make Jean jealous, but he also begrudgingly respected the guy.

“Can’t say anything. It’s classified. Plus I’d rather hear what Jean’s thesis is about,” Armin said.

“You wouldn’t like it. The subject matter isn’t your cup of tea, and you wouldn’t agree with the thesis,” Jean said.

“Just because I’m not into a particular philosophy doesn’t mean I won’t be interested in it. I might not agree with it is all.”

“Ugh. Guyssssssss. Less talking and more drinking. We need another round!” Connie said.

“Here, here,” Marco said.

“For once, I agree with Connie,” Jean said.

“Miracles do happen,” Connie said.

Jean ordered the next pitcher much to Eren’s chagrin even if Eren was loathed to admit that Jean was right in the first place. Everyone started to relax more as they settled into their third or forth glass. The conversation relied on nostalgia for their old college days- talking about everything from Eren’s embarrassing first final exam for which he ran out in the middle of before finishing due to food poisoning to Marco’s stint transporting cadavers to the medical school. 

As Jean finished his glass, ignoring Connie talking about his boring-ass job, Jean started to stare at the door. He noticed wet people scurrying in for a bit of warmth and dryness. They all seemed way too happy. He needed someone to walk in to the bar that wasn't these people. Like a siren to his thoughts, the door opened. That was when he saw  _her_.  


	2. Chapter 2

A girl entered in the bar, looking totally exasperated and simply relieved to be inside. She ran in loudly to Jean’s booth. She was soaking wet and wearing clothes that would not be considered fashionable by anyone’s standards. She tried to tidy herself by slicking her bangs to the side and retying her hair back. She was, in the kindest words Jean could think of, sloppy.

“Hey Connie! Sorry, I’m late. Class just finished, and I ran here. But then it started raining. It’s really pouring out there,” the girl said.

Connie waved her on and said, “Everyone, this is Sasha. We knew each other pretty well back in the day.”

Everyone gave some half-hearted hellos as Sasha barreled into Jean’s side. She excused her self and scooted a little bit away from Jean so she wouldn’t soak his clothes any further.

“Sorry if I got you wet,” Sasha said as she extended her hand towards Jean.

Jean looked down at his jeans where Sasha’s clothes already started to drench his.

Not bothering to take her hand, Jean just said, “This isn’t the worst thing that has happened to my clothes tonight.”

“So Sasha, are you at grad school here? You mentioned coming back from a class,” Armin said to nicely change the subject before Jean grumbled any further.

“Nah, I’m actually in culinary school. I mean after graduating, and I got a job… It was kinda too slow for me there. Not much action happening at those cubicles. I mean I loved college and don’t regret those years. Go Titans, but uh, the working world after that kind of sucks to say the least,” Sasha said.

“As told to four different people tied to their career,” Jean said as he raised his glass in a mock toast.

Marco loudly cleared his throat.

“You can ignore, Jean,” Connie said.

“I take offense to that you little fucker,” Jean said.

“Is this guy always an asshole?” Sasha said.

“And proud of it,” Jean said.

“He’s actually kind of nice,” Marco said.

“Only if your name is Marco or Erwin Smith. Then again, you’re just ass-kissing when it comes to Smith,” Eren said.

“I can definitely see why you guys were friends in college,” Sasha said.

“In what fantasy does that actually seem possible?” Jean said.

“I dunno. You guys fight and stuff like old couples. I bet there was some funny story about how you guys met.”

“It’s actually kind of boring. Just a bunch of people who met each other in the dorms,” Marco said.

“Yeah? Which did you live in?”

“We were in Trost.”

“Explains why I never met you guys. I lived in Reiss, which was as lame as you thought it was. I heard Trost was where all the parties happened.”

“Sort of. Well not if you were Jean or Marco. You guys met somewhere else,” Connie said.

“That’s because we met at a real party,” Jean said.

Marco rolled his eyes at Jean and smiled.

“Yeah, we met at some parties off campus even though we were both living in Trost at the time,” Marco said.

“So you two are besties?” Sasha said.

“Something like that.”

“Aw, that’s cute.”

“Ugh… Marco, why’d you have to say it like that,” Jean said.

“I’m not going to lie.”

“Really cute,” Sasha said as she peered over her glass at Jean, sipping her beer.

Close to midnight, the conversation dwindled, and Armin pushed for Eren and Mikasa to go home. It made no difference to Jean, but he noted in his mind about how much time changed. He remembered the days of shit talking until bar close and then heading to someone’s apartment for a few more drinks. Then again, hangovers killed him more than they did when he 19. It bothered Jean that it wasn’t like he was even that old, and he felt like he was 40.

Eren and Armin paid the bill while the rest grabbed their jackets. Marco and Jean were about to leave before Marco stopped and turned to Sasha.

“It’s still raining,” Marco said.

“So?” Jean said.

“I’m talking to Sasha.”

“It’s not bad. I’ve got to take the bus. Not a big deal,” Sasha said.

“Where do you live?”

“On the east side, off on the end of Prospect.”

“Really? Jean and I are close to that. We’re on Lakeshore. We could give you a ride.”

“Oh thanks… You don’t have to.”

“Don’t worry. It’s on our way home.”

“Speak for yourself. It’s my car. Stop offering rides with my car,” Jean said.

“Stop it. You know you like to give people rides,” Marco said.

The three of them left the bar and got into Jean’s car, a hand-me-down from his parents. The thing ran, so Jean didn’t mind although when he saw his old college friends with way better cars, he admitted that it would be nice to have something nicer. As usual, Marco sat in front with him while Sasha sat awkwardly in back.

“So… I mean… I wanted to really ask you guys this, but it might be kind of weird… And definitely overstepping my boundaries considering we just met…” Sasha said.

Marco turned around and asked, “What is it?”

“Well… are you two? You know? Seeing each other?”

“What?” Jean said.

“So no?” Sasha said.

“Well… we’ve never dated. But if you’re curious, I am gay,” Marco said.

Marco was always honest about the question regarding his sexuality. Spending so much of his life scared about it, he made the decision to be more upfront about it once he came out. He wasn’t going to spend his life afraid of what he saw as a part of who he was. He partially concluded why he felt so comfortable about it was because of Jean. Marco came out to Jean some time during their sophomore year. They had been living together in a terrible apartment above a school bookstore, and Marco seemed terrified at the idea of telling his new best friend about him self- maybe because deep down, Marco knew that he cared the most about what Jean thought. Instead, Jean ended up always standing up for him or making sure he didn’t offend Marco. He became Marco’s ally and confidant, and the person Marco fell in love with.

“Oh! I’m sorry I was so-“ Sasha said.

“It’s not a big deal. All my friends know. In fact, Jean was the first to know,” Marco said.

“Wow, it’s really neat how close you two are. Like really cool. I don’t have that kind of friendship. Maybe with Connie, but other than him, most people think I’m really weird,” Sasha said.

“Probably because you are,” Jean said.

“Jean… You probably already picked up on this Sasha, but don’t take Jean too seriously,” Marco said.

“Got it. I think you mentioned it before. Though, everyone should probably be giving you all the kudos in the world for putting up with him. No offense Jean, but you’re kind of a jerk,” Sasha said.

“It’s one of many reasons why he’s single,” Marco said.

“You know I don’t have to give either of you rides,” Jean said.

“We’re kidding with you.”

“So what about you Jean? Are you… also?” Sasha asked.

“Am I also what?” Jean said.

“I think she’s asking if you’re gay,” Marco said.

“Eh. I’m whatever.”

Jean sighed as his hand tightened over the steering wheel and continued to drive as Marco and Sasha chatted with each other.

“Hey, I live around here. You can just drop me off,” Sasha said as she tapped Jean’s shoulder.

He shrugged her hand off and pulled over to the side. Sasha opened the door and took one last look of Jean and Marco.

“Hey, this is weird, but would you guys want to hang out again some time?” she said.

Marco smiled and said, “Yeah for sure.”

“No,” Jean said.

“He means yes.”

“I can tell,” Sasha said, “Hey Jean.”

“What…” Jean said.

“I’m totally going to break you.”

“Try me.”

“Challenge accepted.”


	3. Chapter 3

Jean almost threw his book against the wall before he just slapped it against his thigh and slammed his head against his desk. He cursed a dead man for writing something he found brilliant but the source of his current troubles. As he got up, Marco knocked on his door and entered into his room.

“Hey, Sasha’s coming over tonight. Don’t mess up the place,” Marco said.

“Her?” Jean said.

“Yeah. What’s the big deal?”

“She’s here a lot, and I have a rewrite due on Thursday.”

“Those are unrelated things.”

“If she is over here, I have to be drunk, and while I’m a brilliant writer when I’m drunk, I can’t say the same when I’m doing a rewrite.”

“Don’t drink then. It’s going to be mellow anyway. I have been getting these pounding headaches anyway. So I’ve been cutting back on the drinking.”

“Yeah, you said that last week. You know those painkillers are going to do only so much.”

“Yeah. Sorry about finishing off that ibuprofen, I’ll get you some later.”

“It’s fine. Just go to the doctors. Okay? I’ll forgive you about Sasha if you go to the doctors and get your head checked.”

“Okay, okay. I hear you, mom.”

Sasha walked into the apartment without knocking or ringing the doorbell. She always let herself in these days- something she knew annoyed Jean to no end. She liked hanging out with Marco and Jean even if Jean was a pain in the ass most times. There was a certain relaxing air she could feel being around them. She loved how supportive Marco got and how he listened to almost anything she said. But Jean… she liked to tease him as much he did to her, but she was astonished at how strangely sweet he was. Jean always put on his act in front of everyone, but she noticed how much of that disappeared with Marco. She wondered why someone like her couldn’t do that, but she realized it was probably because Marco could cut to the right emotion with Jean or perhaps deep down it was because they shared the kind of love people so desperately search for- real soul mates.

“Who said you can barge in like that?” Jean said.

“Shut it. I brought you food,” Sasha said.

Sasha pulled out a food container of croquettes. They were still warm, and when Jean open the lid, the faint smell of them wafted in the air. Jean took one and stuffed it into his mouth. When he finished, he set the container back down and grabbed two beers from the fridge. He opened them both and handed one to Sasha. He took a swig from his bottle and popped another croquette into his mouth. He closed his eyes and smiled as he ate the croquette. Something about Jean enjoying her food made her almost flip over with happiness.

“Much better with beer,” Jean said.

Sasha nodded and sipped some her beer. As they continued to drink in what could have been an awkward silence, Marco walked into the kitchenette area and snuck a croquette.

“These are great. You’re a great chef as always,” Marco said.

“Oh… it’s nothing. I made them with some leftovers. So nothing crazy exciting,” Sasha said.

“I could never do something like this. Jean’s always kind of scared when I try to cook.”

“If you can’t understand why I feel that way, you are delusional,” Jean said.

Marco shrugged and got a glass of water. Sasha noticed and went to the fridge to grab a bottle of beer for Marco, but before she even opened the fridge, she saw Jean’s hand blocking the door. He shook his head and made his way to the living room. He sat in his usual spot before Marco and Sasha joined him.

“What should we watch?” Marco asked.

Marco pulled out several movies. Jean and Sasha quickly dismissed all of them. He selected one last movie in hoping that they would reach a consensus.

“ _Breathless_? Sure,” Jean said.

“Wow, you’re actually saying yes to something,” Sasha said.

“Jean’s got a soft spot for French new wave films,” Marco said.

“Really? You don’t seem like a subtitles on movies kind of guy.”

“I don’t need subtitles to watch this movie,” Jean said.

“Wait, you’re saying you know French?”

“Yeah. So what?”

“Prove it. Say something in French then!”

“I’m not going to say some shit at random!”

Marco waved his hands around and said, “Stop! Stop! We’ll just watch this movie. Okay?”

He put the movie in and sat in front of the couch where Jean and Sasha sat practically worlds apart. He liked to look back at Jean and notice him mouthing his favorite lines. Marco smiled to himself and felt the kind of ease he always wanted in life. As the movie went on, Sasha and Jean teased each other, and Marco began to feel that kind of ache- the kind that knows he can’t have things that he wants. He laughs a little to himself because he thinks about that one Smiths’ song, the one that’s basically an anthem to him at this point. _I want the one that I can’t have, and it’s driving me mad_ \- the lyric that is stuck in his head on repeat.

Jean tapped on Marco’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper into Marco’s ear.

“You okay? Is it a headache again? Just go to bed. I’ll take you to the doctor’s tomorrow,” Jean said.

Marco shook his head, but Jean chided him to his room. When Jean got back, Sasha asked about Marco, but Jean didn’t speak. Instead, his eyes bored at the TV, concentrating as much as he could so he didn’t have to worry about Marco. The movie ended and left Jean still staring at the TV. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes as he leaned his head back onto the couch. Sasha turned to him and rubbed his shoulder a bit. Much to Sasha’s surprise, Jean didn’t shirk away. She thought it might have been because he seemed tired. The situation made Sasha antsy. So she tried to do something about it.

“Why do you like that movie so much?” Sasha asked.

Jean bit his lip a bit in thought before he answered, “I think because I’m sort of like that guy. When I first saw this, I thought he was so badass, but I realized now that he’s really just insecure and running away from everything. At least… that’s how it is for me.”

“You’re such a softie.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Say that again when you’re with Marco.”

“Shut up…” Jean said with a smile on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

The clinic’s waiting room made Jean nervous because everyone hacking and looking all miserable. He glanced over to Marco who was reading an old news magazine, looking unconcerned to say the least. Jean sighed as he watched the clock click on. How long had they been there? It felt like hours, Jean thought. He picked up a sports magazine and started to flip through the pages. Reading these articles seemed less exciting when he knew the scores and outcomes. So-and-so ended up getting a torn ACL, but the Scouts ended up with the championship anyway.  Blah, blah. He regretted not bringing a book or something.

A nurse entered the waiting room and called Marco’s name, and what Jean assumed was the longest waiting time before turned to be insignificant compared to the time that he ended up waiting for Marco. Jean would have bit his nails to their beds if he had that sort of habit. When Marco entered the waiting room again, Jean’s heart relaxed.

“Hey, you were in there for a while,” Jean said.

“Yeah…” Marco said.

“So what’s up?”

“They can’t say. So if you’re not busy, they called the hospital and squeezed me into an appointment for tomorrow. I have to get some tests done.”

“Yeah. It’s not a big deal.”

The next day they went further downtown to the hospital- although Jean decided to pick up a book on his way there. Again, they were spending their time stuck in the waiting room. Marco hesitated to say something, but he poked at Jean’s shoulder. Jean just looked at Marco from the side of his eyes.

“What is it?” Jean asked.

“Hey, don’t worry about this. I know you don’t say it often, but you worry a lot. You care a lot more than you’re willing to admit. Everyone knows it,” Marco said.

“Yeah, but you’re my friend. Of course I’m going to be worried. If you’re not around, it’s not as fun.”

“I’m just saying… It’s going to be fine.”

Marco then disappeared again. Jean started his book, and when he stopped for a break, realized a lot of time had passed by. He checked his phone to see if he missed him for some reason. Nothing. He tapped his phone rapidly against his palm and bit the inside of his mouth. So Jean started to pace around the hospital. He even made it to the cafeteria and bought himself a coke.

By the time he got back, Marco still hadn’t appeared. Jean sat still and started to look at his phone again. A message from Sasha popped up. _How did Marco’s visit to the clinic go? He hasn’t texted me back_. Jean sat up and wrote back to her. _Clinic was a no go. We’re at the hospital today. I’ve been here for fucking hours_. _Bored as fuck_. Almost as soon as he sent that, she replied. _Shit. Hope Marco’s ok. Read a book or something_. Jean wrote back, smiling. _Me too. Also already did. We’re going to the bar tonight._ He waited for her next reply. _I guess we’re buying Marco drinks. See ya then._ He put his phone back into his jacket pocket, and as he got up, he saw Marco standing there with tired eyes and a frown. He wanted to say, “ _You can’t look like that. The freckles are bad enough_.” But the sound was never there.

“What did they say?” Jean said.

“Can we talk about it at home?” Marco said.

“Sure.”

The ride home was silent. Jean almost had a hard time concentrating on driving with all that silence. When they got to their apartment, they sat down on their sofa and hit their heads against the back of the sofa.

“The scans and x-rays they took today… They showed something,” Marco said.

“Like what?” Jean said.

“What else is there? Fuck, Jean. Fuck…”

Marco smothered his face and started to cry.

“I’m fucking dying. There’s a tumor in my head.”

Marco cried harder while Jean sat in shock.

“Are they going to remove it?” Jean asked.

“They can’t… Not the way it is now. That’s all they know.”

“God… Marco.”

Jean leaned into Marco and held him in his arms as Marco continued to sob. Jean didn’t want to handle this. He couldn’t. He always wanted to protect people, but all he did was cry.

After Marco cried, he left to sleep in his room. Jean sat in the living room by himself before calling Sasha to come over. Fifteen minutes later, Jean turned and noticed Sasha entering the apartment. She held up a couple bottles of cheap wine and a couple grocery bags of take out.

“You think about food at a fucking time like this?” Jean said.

“Shut up. How’s Marco?” Sasha said.

“Sleeping. I think he wants to be alone right now.”

“Then it should be okay if we eat.”

She pulled out containers of food and handed Jean some utensils before opening the bottles of wine.

“I got us each a bottle,” Sasha said.

“Thanks…” Jean said.

“Eat up. Drink. Get a little drunk.”

Jean reluctantly grabbed the bottle and started pouring it down his throat. Sasha stared at him while she picked around the food on the coffee table. She hated how morose he looked, but even more than that, she loathed how hot she thought he looked as he wiped the wine from his lips. She didn’t want to have that thought when Marco was in the next room contemplating his mortality.

“What’s wrong?” Jean said.

“Oh… nothing. Just thinking.” Sasha said.

“About what?”

“Marco. Obviously… also about life and stuff.”

“Yeah I know… I can’t stop thinking about this.”

“What do you think is going to happen?”

“I don’t know. Just know that if you don’t finish your bottle soon, I will.”

Sasha smiled and started to drink from the bottle she opened for her self. Jean turned his head around slightly and stared at Sasha drinking. Her lips covered perfectly around the lid, and he started to find an ache in himself- loneliness that used lust as a cover. He shook his head, disgusted at himself for even entertaining the thought when Marco was clearly crying in the next room. He hated being such an asshole.

“When I wake up tomorrow, I hope none of this is real,” Sasha said.

“That’s fucked up, and you know it,” Jean said.

“What? How is that fucked up?”

“Because tomorrow, you and I will wake up, and we will be perfectly fine. And when Marco wakes up, he will only think about how he’s dying and that nothing he does will make a difference.”

“How can you even say that? If what I said was fucked up, that was even more fucked up.”

“Shut up. You know it’s true.”

Jean took another swig of wine and felt unsatisfied as he got to the bottom. He got up and looked in the fridge. A couple bottles of beer… nothing he wanted. He searched in the cabinet where they kept other stuff. Vodka? Yes. He grabbed a couple glasses and poured a little of the bottle in each. He nudged one of the glasses to Sasha. They quickly drank it and promptly poured more. They drank in silence until Sasha spoke up.

“I can’t go home like this,” Sasha said.

“Then just stay. Fuck. You almost do anyway,” Jean said.

Sasha then sat the couch and kicked Jean off. She stretched her legs across before Jean pulled her off.

“You’re not sleeping on the fucking couch,” Jean said.

“Pray tell, where will I sleep? There’s only two beds here, and they’re both ocupado,” Sasha said.

“Shut up. You’re sleeping in my bed.”

“Where are you sleeping?”

“Where ever.”

“Don’t bother. Just sleep in your bed. I’ll sleep here.”

“Hell no. I’m not that big of an asshole. Now get your ass in my bed.”

“Ooooh! Is the great Jean Kirstein trying to fuck me?”

“Shut the fuck up and get in there!”

He pushed her into his bedroom. He turned on one of his bedroom lights and kicked around some of his clothes on the floor in attempt to make the room semi-reasonable. Sasha looked around at the framed old concert posters and graphic art. Not surprisingly, Jean owned a record player and tons of vinyl. She muttered “hipster” under her breath as she looked at the rest of his room. Jean tried to make his bed somewhat before giving up and pointing at the bed.

“Just go to bed,” Jean said.

Sasha glanced at the bed and shrugged. It was fairly big, at least, big enough for the two of them. Then again, Sasha couldn’t imagine Jean being the kind of person owning a twin sized bed.

“We can share,” Sasha said, almost not loud enough for Jean to hear her.

“You serious?” Jean said.

“Yeah.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine.”

Jean then started to take off his pants. Sasha bit on her lip as she watched, slightly hypnotized. He wore boxer briefs, and they left little to Sasha’s imagination with the way the fabric stretched over a sizeable bulge. He bent a little as he took off his t-shirt. She gawked at his cut body, something she guessed at before but was also genuinely surprised about. He clearly worked out- unlike her self. He stretched his arms a bit and looked at Sasha. He gave her a self-satisfied look when he realized she had been watching him undress the whole time.

“I take singles. Credit cards are a no though,” he said.

“Ass,” She practically hissed.

“I know you like mine.”

Jean snorted and walked past her to his closet and grabbed a t-shirt. He pushed it at Sasha before he climbed into his bed. She turned around and shimmied out of her shirt and jeans. She felt a little nervous even with her back facing. Jean stared at Sasha standing in mismatching bra and underwear. Maybe it was the dim lighting or the fact that Jean hadn’t had sex in a while, but he felt himself getting a little turned on watching Sasha take off her bra, noticing the sway of her breasts as she put on the t-shirt. _Too long_ , he thought. She dispelled any of Jean’s romantic notions though when she piled into the bed. So Jean decided to reach over Sasha and turn the light off. Awkwardly, they lay in bed next to each other without saying anything.

“Are you drunk still?” Sasha asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“Very.”

Sasha turned over and leaned on her arm. She studied Jean under the night light and gnawed on her bottom lip. She edged closer to Jean and placed her hand on his chest. He didn’t immediately take her hand off. Instead, he pulled her on top of him. She leaned down and started to kiss Jean. She didn’t kiss Jean nearly hard enough, just soft kisses that someone would give to a crush. Jean lifted his head and deepened their kisses. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, a move that got Sasha way too excited and encouraged her to kiss him back just as deep. Jean’s hands moved all over Sasha’s body. He grabbed her t-shirt and pulled it over her head. He made a sly grin as he looked at Sasha’s breasts.

“You’ve got great tits,” he said.

“Really?” Sasha said.

“Yeah,” Jean said as he reached and licked one of Sasha’s nipples.

Jean eagerly sucked and bit the nipple while his hand caressed her other breast. Sasha mewled as he thumbed over the other nipple, rolling it between his fingers. She shut her eyes as she enjoyed Jean’s attention. He suddenly stopped and pulled away from her though. She opened her eyes and scowled at Jean.

Sasha flicked his forehead and said,” What the fuck was that for?”

“I want you riding my dick later, but this position isn’t working for what I want to do right now,” Jean said.

Jean held Sasha and flipped her onto her back. He settled between her legs and tugged her panties down. He smirked as he stared at her slick entrance, but his expression changed as he looked at her. It wasn’t the smart aleck face she normally saw, but the kind of face she imagined few people saw- something passionate.

“You’re really beautiful. You know?” Jean said.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Jean then placed her legs onto his shoulders and started lick the inside of her thighs. Sasha started to whimper in anticipation- she liked the waiting almost as much the real deal. Jean teased Sasha more until he felt satisfied and decided he too was tired of waiting. His tongue traced around her clit and up and down her sex. Sasha grabbed Jean’s hair and pulled him closer.

In the next room, Marco stirred and started to loudly cry. Jean suddenly stopped and grabbed the discarded t-shirt on his bed. As he put it on, Sasha started to get up.

“Don’t move! I’m coming back,” Jean said.

“Sure, but what about this?” Sasha said gesturing at her body.

“When I get back, we are going to fuck. You’ll be screaming my name. Trust me.”

“You’re such an ass.”

“I take pride in that.”

Sasha rolled around in Jean’s bed, waiting for him to come back to her. But the longer she waited; she realized nothing was happening tonight. Instead, she had to be content with her own fingers while Jean was in the other room. After she finished, she largely felt unsatisfied and empty. Sasha fell asleep, curled up in the scent of the man who would drive her crazy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there to the people who are reading this! As I'm about to start working on the regular, I probably won't have much time to write. So I'm resolving this issue by trying to update this fic every Friday. Hopefully I can stick with the plan (it's still technically Friday where I am!)

Marco woke up in his childhood bedroom. Nothing changed about the room- from the Radiohead poster he conned his grandfather into buying for him to the assortment of trophies and ribbons he received in high school. He didn’t feel like taking a shower or wearing presentable clothes this day. Though, he started to feel like this every day. He shuffled out of the bedroom and into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. The most he could do to be somewhat like the rest of society.

If today were to be better than yesterday, then Marco would not begin to vomit in the morning, actually head outside and not feel tired and loopy, and not cry because crying is the only thing that feels okay. People told him to be positive, but the statistics said that no matter what, this cancer would kill him- maybe today, next week, a year, or even a decade. Nothing short of a miracle would make this disappear. It was inevitable. Marco Bott would die because of a brain tumor. Currently, his oncologist was actually positive for Marco. That was a good thing, Marco thought because he certainly wasn’t himself- at least not on the inside. To everyone, including Jean, he sort of lied about everything regarding this disease.

Marco read most of the time. With the aggressive treatment affecting his mind, he hoped reading would stave off what he considered the inevitable. Still, his memory grew a bit faulty at times. So Marco kept a notebook with him at all times. He wrote things he needed to remember. But most of the things he wrote were things that he just wanted to remember- like the story Jean told about being a chubby kid in middle school, getting teased all the time until he had a growth spurt and started to play rugby or Sasha’s recipe for perfect mashed potatoes. He then started to write down the stories about himself, about his childhood, high school, college, and the weird time when he and Jean decided to take a break from life before grad school.

Marco smiled the most at the story of how he and Jean went backpacking in Europe, which was where Jean kissed Marco for the first and only time of their lives- on a bridge in Budapest over the Danube. Marco only blamed himself for making it awkward since in actuality, everything about that kiss was perfect from the way Jean asked to the reflection of the sunset over the Danube. Then again, as Marco wrote down everything, he felt like he had made the right decision at the time since Jean actually had broken up with the one person he ever was serious about- a person that Marco only referred to as B. H. It was writing this that Marco realized he couldn’t have any more regrets. He couldn’t let another moment slip past him like it did that one time.

And so began Marco’s list of the things he thought he would be able to do again before he died. He made the list and decided to get someone to be his accomplice in this attempt to enjoy any last bits of his life before he had no hold on it. He knew the right person immediately after writing the list.

Sasha arrived at Marco’s home after a slew of bus transfers and a short walk. She knocked apprehensively on the door where Marco came out and immediately hugged Sasha. She pulled out a box of macarons and delicately frosted petit fours. Marco smiled as he smelled the pastries, their sweetness so mood lifting. He took a macaron and bit into it- the taste was indescribable. The macaron was just the right amount of sweet with a floral hint. He knew picked the right person- someone who honestly felt like sweets would make him happy.

“Wow, these are amazing. Did you make these?” Marco said.

“Nah. I just know a really good pastry chef, which I’m totally not. I did, however, make you something else,” Sasha said.

She dug out another box and forced it into Marco’s hand.

“I made pierogis. Grandmother’s recipe from the homeland- so lots of potatoes, cheese, and onions,” Sasha said.

“Thank you, you shouldn’t have,” Marco said.

Sasha shrugged and rubbed Marco’s shoulder.

“So what’s up?” she said.

Marco shrugged back and led Sasha into the living room. He grabbed his notebook and waved it in front of Sasha.

“I need your help,” Marco said.

Sasha took the notebook from Marco’s hands and flipped it open.

“Wait… this is a bucket list. I thought you were fine,” Sasha said.

Marco chuckled and reclined his chair. He liked being able to fool everyone.

“I’m… well I don’t know. They won’t say terminal yet, but this kind of cancer isn’t the kind that just disappears,” Marco says.

“Shit…” Sasha said.

Marco laughed again and said, “That’s what Jean would say.”

“Wait, you haven’t told Jean? I thought Jean was your closest friend.”

“He is… But I don’t want to worry him. He knows I have cancer, and that’s all he needs to know. He doesn’t need to know that it’s probably terminal. In fact, that’s why I’m asking you to help me.”

Sasha rubbed her head. There weren’t even words to address any of this. One of her good friends was dying, and she couldn’t tell her other good friend that truth. She could only sigh and listen to whatever Marco had planned next.

“So what are you planning to do?” Sasha said.

“Well, the list is basically everything I’m going to do before I die. But really, it’s more like my plan to make Jean happy and not miss me when I die,” Marco said.

“And you want me to help you?”

“Of course. I can’t do this by myself.”

“Oh I get that, but I don’t know if Jean would want me in on the plan to make him happy. That guy is an asshole to people not named Marco Bott.”

“Well… there is one other person. Well besides his mom… So like two people besides me. Still, I think Jean likes you more than you think.”

“The guy says I’m obsessed with potatoes.”

Marco looked down at the container of pierogis before slowly looking back at Sasha. She threw her hands up in a bit of defense.

“That is a total coincidence,” Sasha said.

“I won’t argue with what you want to believe in. But still… it’s what I want, and I want Jean and you and everyone to be happy. You deserve it, you know.”

Sasha leaned back and started to think about what she was going to do. She couldn’t possibly say no to Marco- especially to this list. She looked at the list and saw each heartfelt request. Besides, she had a sneaking suspicion that Marco knew about how she really felt about Jean.

“Okay, I’ll do it, but you have to tell Jean,” Sasha said.

Marco wouldn’t look at her when she said that. He just stared off into space. He wanted to tell Jean, but every little part of him couldn’t. He was always told that he was brave and kind by Jean, but in reality, he was a coward like any other person. If he weren’t, he wouldn’t have this stupid list in the first place. That’s what he told himself.

“You’ll do it?” Marco said.

Sasha rolled her eyes.

“It’s like you didn’t hear that last part,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah. I was just kidding you. Cancer patients can joke too,” Marco said.

“I know! Still, will you please do that for Jean? He deserves to know.”

“In due time. I’ll tell him. Okay?”

Sasha tapped on her temple before smiling wide, “Okay! So what do we need to do?”

Marco smiled back. He was going to need Sasha’s enthusiasm to finish this project.

“Well, for starters, I need you to call some people, and I need to arrange something for my birthday.”

It was certainly the beginning of something.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything, but I especially don't own the song referenced in this chapter

“If it wasn’t your birthday, I’d say no way in hell would I do this,” Jean said as he, Marco, and Sasha entered into the karaoke bar.

Marco just smiled as they went into their room, Connie, Armin, Eren, and Mikasa already waiting for them. Marco grabbed as cocktail from the table and shoved it into Jean’s hand.

“There’s nothing more I would love than for you to get drunk off cocktails and to sing at least one drunken song,” Marco said.

Jean shook his head and drank the cocktail quickly. Sasha laughed as she grabbed a beer and sat on the couch with Marco who could only smile at his friends. Connie already had one too many drinks and started his awful Elvis impressions with full on crooning and over posturing. They chanted for Armin to start with something before they heard a knock on the wall.

Sasha turned around and saw three people standing there: a petite woman with the most severe case of resting bitch face, a gigantic guy who looked like he lived in a gym, and an incredibly tall guy who shyly waved to the group. Marco beamed at them while Sasha noticed Jean seize up a little. They introduced themselves as Annie, Reiner, and Bertolt- friends of Marco from a while back who had gone to a different university than everyone else. They mostly kept to themselves, drinking and sometimes chatting with everyone else. Sasha noticed that the most outgoing of them was Reiner who seemed to enjoy talking to just about everyone he could.

“Hey Marco, this your girlfriend?” Reiner said, pointing to Sasha.

 “Oh no! We’re just totally friends!” Sasha said.

Reiner laughed and took a swig of his beer. He gave Sasha a little punch in the arm.

“Relax. I was joking. Marco hasn’t pretended to be straight since high school prom. By the way, Annie still resents you for that,” Reiner said.

Sasha glanced at Annie who shook her head at Marco. Marco ignored it and started to drink before egging Sasha to sing. She brushed off every single attempt while Mikasa dragged Eren to sing a duet with her. Soon Sasha realized she was drunk enough to not be bothered about the singing. So she took the microphone and selected a song she knew she’d regret singing. The music started up, and her body was moving to the beat. She sang at the top of her lungs and sometimes off key, but she didn’t care as she jumped around, pumping her fists into the air. Everyone else enjoyed themselves, clapping to the beat and singing the chorus with Sasha. When the song finished, Sasha bowed and blew kisses to everyone before she celebrated with another beer.

At that moment, Connie started chanting for Jean, the only one who hadn’t quite sang yet beside the quiet Bertolt- someone Sasha couldn’t imagine anyone trying to egg on to sing because they just wanted to wrap him up in blankets and keep him safe. Jean ignored Connie until everyone else started joining in Connie’s annoying chant. Pissed off, he grabbed the microphone.

“You guys better fucking appreciate this,” Jean said.

“Sing something girly,” Connie said.

“Fuck off Springer.”

“You should have sung Elvis instead of Connie,” Armin said.

Marco grinned before saying, “Still think he should do that.”

Jean started to get red in the face with each embarrassing request. Then Sasha heard someone sort of saying something. She turned around and saw that it was Bertolt talking.

“ _Lost in Translation_ style,” Bertolt said.

It was the first suggestion that peaked Jean’s interest. Sasha could tell by the way Jean actually listened and nodded seriously.

“Which one?” Jean asked.

“You know which song,” Bertolt said.

“You singing too?”

“Sure.”

Bertolt took a microphone while Jean selected a song. They stood closely by while the music with its slow tempo began. Jean’s foot tapped to the rhythm before he and Bertolt started to sing in unison. _I could feel at the time. There was no way of knowing._ Jean’s voice was beautiful, that was all Sasha could think- smooth baritone that crooned just right. Bertolt’s voice was equally impressive, though anyone could tell he held back while letting Jean take the lead. _More than this, there is nothing. More than this, tell me one thing. More than this, there is nothing_. At that chorus, Bertolt broke away from singing with Jean on lead and into harmony. Sasha looked at Marco who only smiled while whispering the lyrics. Across the room, Annie and Reiner seemed like they were about to cry. No one dared to clap along or interrupt their singing- just everyone patiently listening to Jean and Bertolt sing. The music started to fade away, and suddenly everyone was at a loss for words.

“Damn it, this really makes me miss the band,” Reiner said.

“Band?” Sasha said.

“Jean, Bertolt, Reiner, and Annie were in a band together. They used to do this song all the time back then,” Marco said.

“You little asshole. That’s why you invited them,” Jean said to Marco.

“I just invited my friends to my birthday party. Nothing else.”

“Still, just hearing that made my wrists ache a bit. I haven’t drummed in forever,” Reiner said.

“I remember your first gig. That was right before I started my job. Those were the days,” Armin said.

“You know I heard that Mike Z still books the gigs at that club you guys used to play at all the time,” Marco said.

Annie made a slight smile and nodded.

“A gig for Marco,” Annie said.

“Hey, hey, what’s this talk about a gig?” Jean said.

“If it’s for Marco, I’m definitely cool with the band getting back together,” Reiner said.

“I’m up for it. Jean?” Bertolt said.

Everyone stared at Jean. He knew if he said no, he would just cement that asshole image everyone already had of him. But he would be an absolute villain if he said no to Marco- even worse, a guy with cancer. Jean fucking hated his life.

“Okay,” Jean said.

Reiner slapped Jean on the back and took another beer.

“That’s fucking right, Kirstein. You can’t fucking take that back. You hear? Or else I’m totally going to make you pay for making Marco cry,” Reiner said.

Marco smiled widely as Jean sulked beside him. Jean shot him a dirty look as they sat back down.

“Why do you want the band back together?” Jean said.

“I’ve got my reasons, but I’m keeping them to myself,” Marco said.

“Asshole.”

“Don’t worry, Jean. I know you’ve been secretly praying for this to happen. You can thank me later.”

Jean just laughed and took his beer. Marco rested his head on Jean's shoulders as the night eased on. Jean smirked to himself in these moments, knowing that Marco probably wouldn't catch him doing this. He wished that all of this could be forever. The laughing. The smiling. And in the future, when Jean looked back on these moments, he would be grateful that these were the times that he chose to keep in his heart forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were curious, these were the songs that I imagined were sung plus the one that is actually referenced in the chapter:
> 
> Bertolt/Jean: Roxy Music – "More Of This"
> 
> Sasha: Icona Pop – "I Love It"
> 
> Connie: Elvis Presley – "Love Me Tender"
> 
> Annie: Nancy Sinatra – "These Boots Are Made For Walkin'"
> 
> Marco: The Clash – "Should I Stay Or Should I Go"


	7. Chapter 7

Jean opened his guitar case and stared at his guitar. On recent practices with the band, he used one of Annie’s guitars, but that guitar never compared to his own. He played it occasionally but didn’t bring it out to practice for fear that simply touching it would make him run back on his promise. He restrung his guitar and started to play around with it to stretch out the strings. After the stretching and re-tuning, he started to seriously play something. He played around with some chord progressions, tweaking things little by little until he made something he liked. So he pulled out a small notebook and pen to write notes about the riffs he liked the most. He flipped around the notebook and noticed the scribbles that chronicled his life through the silly songs and earnest lyrics. Secretly, he wanted to show everyone in the band what he was working on. After all, he did sort of want the band back together. He always wanted to be a musician over what his future had in mind for him, but he was always too scared to do that. He mulled over the notebook with that thought in mind, deciding that he would hold off on showing anyone any of those songs. He put the notebook and guitar back into his guitar case and left for the club.

Scouts, the club that Jean’s band played at all the time, never changed. Jean walked into the back entrance and was greeted by the club owner Mike Z. No one he knew seemed to know anything about Mike. No one knew his last name, if he actually had eyes behind that serious fringe of his, what he looked like without facial hair, or if he was dating Nanaba the bartender, who was also a mystery since no one really knew Nanaba’s gender. The only thing people knew about Mike was that he was kind of weird. Only weirdos would sniff people like Mike did, and of course, Mike did this to Jean as he walked into the club.

“You stopped smoking recently…” Mike sniffed again, “Two months ago.”

“Yeah… I did,” Jean said.

“You’re also seeing someone. A woman… Does Bertolt know?”

“Fuck no, I’m not seeing anyone, and Bertl doesn’t know because there’s nothing to know.”

Mike smiled.

“I knew. I just wanted to hear you say that,” Mike said.

Jean flipped Mike off as he pulled his gear into the club. Inside, Bertolt was already there with Reiner. Bertolt was sitting on his amp and strumming some lines on his bass while Reiner was adjusting his drums.

“Hey, where’s Annie?” Jean asked.

“I don’t know. Taking a shit? She’ll be here soon. Don’t worry about it. You’re the only one we had to worry about,” Reiner said.

“Fuck you.”

“Nice to see you haven’t changed in over two years.”

Reiner smugly grinned to himself before making a quick snap of his wrists, hitting his snare drum as perfectly as ever. Bertolt looked up and finally noticed Jean.

“Annie’s here already,” Bertolt pointed at Annie’s gear at the side.

“Oh. I guess I didn’t notice,” Jean said.

“She got here before me. She went to smoke somewhere.”

“What about me?” Annie walked in, adjusting her black leather jacket.

“Just wondering where you were,” Jean said.

“Oh… no where in particular. Nice to see you didn’t flake on us though.”

“I wasn’t ever going to flake out on you guys… Marco would have made me guilty for life.”

Annie grinned at Jean’s statement as she nonchalantly tuned her guitar. They moved their gear back to the stage and went back to relax a few moments before playing. They looked at each other, almost trapped in a staring match. No one said anything about the obvious nerves and emotions that was emanating out of everyone. Mike Z came back to check on the band, like in the old days- to make sure no one in the band had killed each other yet.

“You guys are gonna be on in a couple of minutes,” Mike said.

Reiner cracked his knuckles and led the rest of the band to the stage. They stood in the same spots as always, as if none of this stopped two years ago.

 Jean held onto the microphone stand and looked at Bertolt with his bass slung low. He was unusually nervous about this show. He could tell Bertolt felt the same. They hadn’t even started playing, and Bertolt’s sweater and shirt looked drenched from all the sweating. On his other side, Annie coolly drank from a water bottle and fiddled with her guitar. Reiner didn’t say anything, but Jean could feel Reiner sending some vibes to him that said, “stop being such a baby and get this gig started”. So Jean picked up his guitar pick and held it between sweaty, shaking fingers. He leaned into the microphone and looked out into the audience. Marco, Sasha, and the rest of the gang sat at their table, looking excited. He saw people filter through and sit down. Then before he was about to say something, Jean saw a familiar face enter in- his advisor. Dr. Smith walked in, followed by a short man with a look that was both dour and utterly terrifying on his face. Jean wanted to faint and just not deal with this, but Annie shot him a look. Hesitant, he took a deep breath and tapped the microphone.

“Hello. The name of the band is Wild Horses, and this is real,” Jean said.

Reiner and Annie started to play with Annie’s bright guitar playing complementing Reiner’s precise, clean beats. Then Jean and Bertolt joined them. Jean’s hands felt too loose as he picked and strummed along, but his nerves were starting to melt with Bertolt’s bass notes. Bertolt nodded at Jean to start singing. _I don’t know who’s behind the wheel. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know the deal. But when I tell you how I feel, believe me when I say it’s real._ Bertolt joined him in the chorus, and Jean finally felt at ease. He forgot about that, how much someone like Bertolt anchored him. He remembered that it was stuff like that, which made him love being in this band.

 Sasha bobbed her head along with the music. _I carved our names into a tree._ She looked at Marco, who was tapping his fingers against his glass of beer. He smiled with the kind of satisfaction that could only happen when someone knows they’re right. _It’s real as far as I can see._ He would whisper the lyrics back and sing along with the chorus. Almost everyone in the audience was mesmerized with Jean and Bertolt’s perfect harmony as they sang out the chorus.

“They’re really good. I mean Jean and Bertolt,” Sasha said.

Marco nodded and said, “Of course they are.”

“You’re jealous of Bertolt,” Sasha laughed and messed with Marco’s hair.

“Yeah.”

“So you’re not going to deny it?”

Marco shrugged and took a swig of his beer. His smile faded.

“They always had this connection- ever since I introduced them to each other,” Marco said.

“Wow, that’s crazy, but you can totally just tell by the way they play off each other,” Sasha.

“So you can see why I’m jealous.”

“But they’re just in a band together. You and Jean are like best friends. That counts for way more.”

The song ended, and the band begun another. Reiner drove the band with snappy hits of his kit while Bertolt’s steady bass lines were intensely hypnotic. Sasha couldn’t tell if Annie was bored or just that good when it came to her guitar work. She just stood there, emotionless; strumming patterns and moving her fingers in intricate positions like it was only natural. Then there was Jean- clearly the star but with a delicate sort of swagger as he sang. He closed his eyes while he played guitar and sang like all of this was too good to handle at once. Then at those moments, Jean would pace back from his microphone to the side of it while Bertolt stepped to the other side to sing along with him. The way they sang together was impressive to say the least. Sasha swore she could see the energy between them as they sang, almost to each other. They stared at each other with an understanding that could only come between those in a close relationship. Sasha almost fell back at this realization.

“Wait. When you say you’re jealous, you’re like jealous, jealous. Right? Like that guy singing with my best friend has most definitely fucked him kind of jealous?” Sasha said.

Marco laughed and said, “Took you long enough.”

“How come it wasn’t you?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t think he ever saw me as anything else besides his friend. When they met though, things just clicked, and they started to date. Bertolt is the only person Jean has ever seriously dated.”

“So wait… They’re obviously not dating now. So is that why the band broke up?”

“Surprisingly it wasn’t. They broke up for a way different reason. Something I don’t really understand to this day.”

Jean felt exhilarated being on stage again as the band got closer to the end of their set. They played their old songs perfectly, and the times where he felt like he messed up turned into some joyous accident. Annie even started to smile as she played, something Jean had rarely seen in the first place. In the back of his mind, all of the possibilities started to blossom. He hated that the next song was going to be the last because he never wanted any of it to end.

“Thank you for coming. This last song and entire show is dedicated to our friend Marco,” Jean said.

Annie started to strum as Reiner’s bright and snappy beats were laid out. Jean started with Bertolt who remained Jean’s constant with his rhythmically entrancing bass lines. _Our children will always hear romantic tales of distant years._ Jean looked out into the audience. Unsurprisingly, Marco looked like he was about to break out in tears. He always did that at every show, but now he had Sasha clinging onto him about to do the same. _Stick with me. Oh you’re my best friend. All of my life, you’ve always been._ Strangely, Jean noticed Sasha at that moment. Her eyes were wide, and she smiled as her head bopped up and down with the beat. She looked beautiful to Jean in all of her enjoyment. _Remember, remember all we fight for._ But everyone looked mesmerized in some sort of way. Hell, even Erwin Smith and his companion were smiling and enjoying the music.

The song stopped, and the band bowed to the audience. Marco stood back as people rushed over to congratulate Jean and the band on a great show. He could see Jean’s eyes ever searching. For Jean, everything seemed surreal. Erwin Smith even went up to him.

“Hey Jean, you’re really good out there. I guess you have another plan in case this philosophy stuff doesn’t work out,” Erwin said.

“I guess. I mean, I’m planning on it to work. Er… Never mind. Can I ask you something?” Jean said.

“Yeah.”

“Why are you here?”

Erwin shrugged, “Mike’s an old friend of mine, and he told me about a band playing that was playing for the first time in years. Said they were one of the best bands that ever stepped foot in this club. Then I got an invite from your friend.”

“My friend? You mean Marco?”

Erwin shook his friend and pointed over to Sasha.

“She came by my office and pleaded for me to go. So I thought why not.”

“Oh… crazy.”

“Anyway, I should be parting. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Sasha tried to edge her way into the crowd to say something to Jean. All she could do was shout over everyone, but she noticed Jean beam at her when he finally heard her. He waved her on, but too many people were in her way. So Sasha decided to wait for Jean. She watched as some people talked to Jean and the rest of the band. Then people got bored and went back to their drinks. The band started to talk amongst themselves, but Sasha saw Jean point at her. Bertolt tapped on Jean’s shoulder and slipped him a piece of paper. Jean quickly looked at it before going to Sasha.

“Hey, thanks for waiting,” Jean said.

“No problem,” Sasha said.

“Where did Marco go?”

“Armin took him home. He’s kind of exhausted, but he loved it.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him later about it.”

“Sorry if I took you away from the band though.”

“Nah, it wasn’t a big deal. Just some stuff about practicing.”

“And the note?”

“What note?”

“I saw Bertolt slip you a note.”

“Oh… yeah. It’s nothing.”

And it was nothing that burned a hole in Jean’s pockets. Nothing that kept Jean’s mind distracted from Sasha. Nothing that was seemingly everything.


	8. Chapter 8

Meeting with an ex-boyfriend seemed like a terrible idea. Not because he dumped you. In this case, you most definitely dumped him. You dumped him because you were having a mental breakdown, and you honestly couldn’t bring him any further into the clusterfuck that was your mind. The kind of clusterfuck that makes you take an impromptu trip to Europe with your best friend where you tried to fuck said friend even though you were still in love with your ex-boyfriend, and you imagined said ex when you kissed this friend because you are a total asshole. You were fucked up to say the least, and nothing had changed for the most part. This was Jean’s predicament as he stepped into Stacks, his favorite record store… at least his formerly favorite record store. The reason for that was standing behind the counter. Bertolt Hoover smiled as Jean walked up to the register.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Bertolt said.

Jean shrugged and glanced over Bertolt’s shoulder.

“Is that what I think it is?” Jean said.

Bertolt looked back and laughed.

“Yeah, but it’s a reprint,” Bertolt said.

“Still want to see it,” Jean said.

Bertolt grabbed the record behind him and handed it to Jean. Jean took the record out of its sleeve and inspected it.

“Damn… It’s still beautiful if it’s a reprint,” Jean said.

“Well, if you don’t have it, it’s still a good deal,” Bertolt said.

“Yeah… I suppose you don’t want to talk about records though.”

“I don’t mind. Whatever you want to talk about Jean. That’s fine by me.”

If Jean was sure about anything, it was that Bertolt had always been too good for him. He knew it back when he was dating him, and he knew it now as Bertolt sweetly talked about records and music.

“I honestly don’t get why you want to talk to me after everything,” Jean said.

Bertolt shrugged and started to shut the lights. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked around the counter to Jean.

“You want to go get a drink at the usual place?” Bertolt asked.

“Eh… maybe,” Jean said.

“Then maybe my place? It might be easier to talk there.”

“Sure.”

After Bertolt closed the store, they walked over to the tiny one room apartment Bertolt lived in. It was in the same shitty neighborhood where the police sirens were always heard, the rent was always cheap, and the amount of artistic types “slumming it” was always plentiful. The building Bertolt lived in used to be a house for old, retired prostitutes, or so that’s what the landlord claimed. Anyone could complain, but for the rent, Bertolt’s place was large and rather unique. And when Jean walked into that apartment, he felt like it was two years ago again.

“Sorry it’s not… different,” Bertolt said.

“It’s not a big deal,” Jean said.

“Beer?”

“Sure.”

Bertolt tossed Jean a can from his fridge. They went out to the balcony like they used to do in the same oppressive summer heat. Jean remembered the couple summers where he practically lived with Bertolt out on this small balcony, leaning over the railing and singing stupid, made up songs while drinking cheap beer.

“Do you still live with Marco?” Bertolt said.

“No, he’s back at his parents. So I’ve got this asshat named Daz subletting for Marco,” Jean said.

“Have you thought about moving?”

“A little. I just don’t know where.”

“I won’t say anything just because you know… but you know my offer still stands.”

“Two years have passed since that…”

“I know, but I haven’t stopped feeling any differently since then.”

“So is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“A little, but I just wanted to talk to you. And whatever.”

Whatever was dangerous. It always had been when it came to Bertolt. It was how Jean ended up falling in love with him in the first place. Bertolt was never indifferent, but he was so low key that Jean never felt any pressure about him. It wasn’t like Marco who Jean knew loved him in the kind of way he hated- the kind of love he couldn’t return and feel awful because of it. He didn’t feel the need to be perfect around Bertolt because Bertolt wouldn’t care if he were perfect or not- just that he was there for him. It was Bertolt’s secret that only Jean knew- that he was more scared of being alone than anything else.

“So what are you up to?” Jean asked.

“Still working at Stacks… obviously. Writing some songs here and there. Considering going to grad school. Not much,” Bertolt said.

“Well grad school isn’t much to talk about…”

“You were always too smart for your own good.”

Bertolt grinned and nudged Jean. He noted that his playful touch didn’t warrant much of a reaction from Jean. He remembered the days where he simply touched Jean and all of a sudden something catalyzed to their being in bed. Everything seemed electric back then. These days, Jean guarded himself heavily. Maybe he changed that way ever since their breakup, Bertolt supposed. He didn’t know for sure, but he didn’t care to push Jean on it either.

They continued to talk shit until the night finally fell. Jean checked his watch and decided he needed to leave before he found himself any deeper with Bertolt, not that he minded being with Bertolt. He actually enjoyed reliving all of his moments with Bertolt, but he wanted to keep some sort of distance between he and Bertolt before he fell head over heels again.

“Hey, I’ve got to go…” Jean said.

“Work tomorrow?” Bertolt asked.

“Um… a little.”

“Oh, I see.”

“No, it’s not you! It’s just that… I mean… It’s really weird for me to even describe what I’m thinking.”

“That’s fine. By the way, your phone is ringing.”

Bertolt pointed to the front pocket of Jean’s shirt. Jean looked down, and surely enough, his phone was vibrating. Jean quickly took the call. He looked grim as he nodded and murmured along. As he ended the call, Jean looked up at Bertolt, tears starting to form in his eyes.

“Do you mind if I…” Jean said.

“Stay over?” Bertolt said.

“Yeah. Like… over, over.”

“I guess… but I might get the wrong idea.”

“I want you to have the wrong idea.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“I’m more than okay.”

“Can I ask you who called?”

“Yeah, Marco.”

“I see… Are you sure?”

“Shut up and fuck me already,” Jean said as he took Bertolt’s face in his hands and kissed Bertolt hard. He couldn’t give a shit about any of his misgivings about going too fast. All Jean wanted was to be numb to all of the pain so he couldn’t hear the words ringing in his ears. _Hey Jean, I’m dying._


	9. Chapter 9

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You have to get up.”

“Just let me stay like this for another minute.”

“Okay.”

Bertolt smiled as his fingers threaded through Jean’s hair. His other hand stroked up and down his now boyfriend’s back, feeling each contour. He wondered if his body even remembered these same lines like he used to know or if he was just learning Jean’s body anew. He didn’t care since for the past week, Jean had been in his arms.

“Hey, it’s time to get up for real Jean,” Bertolt said.

“Shit… I’ve got to go in the office… Can you just go in for me?” Jean said.

“I think they’d notice that I’m not you.”

“Nah. No one pays attention to me; so they don’t know what Jean Kirstein looks like. For all they know, he’s a six foot three hot piece of ass.”

“Only one thing you said describes you.”

“The ass part?”

“The hot part.”

“Fuck, why are you so cheesy?”

“Because you like it. Also, I’m six four.”

“You grew an inch in two years?”

“So my doctor says.”

Jean kissed Bertolt one more time before he got up and put on some boxers. He walked around Bertolt’s room, slowing putting on a t-shirt while just rambling and singing a song he made up. Bertolt rose from bed and opened up the drapes, letting the light hit his naked, slender body. He went to his record collection and picked something to help Jean get ready in the morning- a habit that was forming in the week since they got back together. Jean would get dressed, sing along, and eat breakfast before driving to campus.Bertolt pulled a sweater over his head and found himself being sloppily kissed by Jean before he left.

“I’ll be late getting home. Don’t wait for me. Sasha wanted to see me,” Jean said.

“You can just invite her over. I don’t mind,” Bertolt said.

“I’d rather not. You don’t deserve that shit storm.”

“I bet she’s not as bad as you make her out to be.”

“No, but I don’t want her getting all weird on you. She’ll raid your potatoes.”

“Is that supposed to be some sort of innuendo?”

“I wish it only was.”

“Okay then… I’ll just see you later on. I have to close anyway.”

“Oh? Then I’ll get something for us to eat on the way back.”

“Sure. I’ll see you then.”

Sasha hadn’t seen Jean in what seemed like forever. She spent the last hour in front of her mirror, putting on at least five different outfits before giving up and wearing a t-shirt and shorts. She normally wasn’t this fussy, but she wanted to look at least semi-hot in front of Jean. All of this resulted in her missing the bus and showing up at least ten minutes past the agreed meeting time.

Jean stood waiting for Sasha sipping on green tea and generally looking too cool for anyone- at least Sasha thought this. He sat down at a table once Sasha was ready for him. They sat across from each other in silence before Sasha said something.

“Hey…” she said.

“Hi,” Jean said.

Sasha couldn’t even look at Jean without blushing. Her crush was getting out of hand. She told herself that it couldn’t be helped, not with the way Jean brushed back his hair or licked his lips after each sip of his tea.

“So what’s up?” Sasha said.

“Not much. Just school. You?” Jean said.

“Same. I mean. Not your kind of school. Just my kind… it’s fine. Just fine.”

“Okay there, Braus.”

“Are you playing with your band again?”

“We haven’t talked about it. But maybe soon. Did Marco ask you?”

“No. I just was asking you to ask you.”

“I thought Marco was going to have you bug me about it.”

“No. Not this time at least. Plus he would just ask you.”

“Yeah… you’re right.”

“You haven’t seen Marco lately?”

“Maybe.”

“So no.”

Jean shrugged and finished his tea.

“I haven’t seen him since… well…” Jean said.

“So why are you avoiding him?” Sasha said.

“Who says I’m avoiding him?”

“No one. I mean… Well me. I mean, he did tell me you haven’t talked to him in a while. Like he talks about missing you all the time.”

“Yeah, I’ll see him sometime soon.”

“Sometime? Why not now?”

Jean avoided looking at Sasha. He just looked outside of the window, thinking about how it looked like it was about to rain. He always preferred gray skies to blue. He wanted it to rain badly because then he wouldn’t have to think so much about this conversation. If it rained, then at least he could listen to the rhythm of the rain and drown out whatever complaints Sasha had against him.

Somewhere mid-conversation, Jean started listening to Sasha again. She was talking about Marco dying. She didn’t need to talk about it so much. It wasn’t like everyone didn’t know that Marco was dying- least of all him. He thought about it way too much.

“He’s really scared, and I think he wants you to just be there. You don’t have to do anything. Just make him feel happy before he dies,” Sasha said.

“I said I was going. All right? Shit, when did you become so self righteous?” Jean said.

“Really? What the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve been so damn weird ever since Marco told you he was dying.”

“What the fuck do you even want me to do? My best friend is dying, and there’s no fucking thing I can do to save him. Then I’ve got assholes like you telling me what to fucking do. I don’t even have a fucking clue why I’m even friends with you when I have to deal with this shit. I’d rather fucking die.”

Jean jumped from his chair. Sasha just stared up at Jean.

“I have to go,” Jean said.

Jean grabbed at his hair and started to pull it. He could feel the onset of a headache. He needed to get out of this. He needed to stop suffocating – when did the air get so heavy? His heart pounded out of his chest. So much so, Jean could feel his blood course through his body with its rapid beat. _Shit_ , he thought. He stopped taking his medication because he hadn’t had a panic attack like this in so long. All he could think was that he was dying even though all parts of him knew he wasn’t.

“Jean, are you okay?” Sasha asked.

“Yeah… Yeah. I just um… I just have to go home. Bertl is waiting for me,” Jean said.

“Bertl?”

Jean shook his head, “Bertolt. Bertl. My boyfriend.”

Sasha’s eyes widened, “Your boyfriend?”

“Yeah… Sorry. I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jean rushed back to Bertolt’s apartment. He sat on the couch in the dark, trying to calm down. When Bertolt came home, he almost jumped out of his skin when he turned the lights on and saw Jean sitting here, staring at nothing. Bertolt sat beside Jean, holding him in his arms.

“Bertl, why am I such a fuck up?” Jean said.

Jean looked up into Bertolt’s eyes and placed a finger on Bertolt’s lips.

“You don’t need to say anything because I know you love me. I just don’t know what to do about Marco. I mean. I couldn’t handle it when my dad died. You know that. And I can’t fuck things up again with you because once was shitty enough. I don’t know… I just feel like absolute shit.”

“What do you want to do about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can I do something for you?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

Bertolt lifted Jean up into his lap. Jean forgot how deceptively strong Bertolt was. Despite how waif-like Bertolt appeared, he had been both a competitive swimmer and runner through out his high school and college years. If one studied Bertolt’s movements, they would notice this. Jean saw it constantly, and he could feel it as Bertolt rapped his arms around him. Bertolt pressed his face into the crook of Jean’s neck. He whispered about loving Jean and kissed his cheek. He rubbed Jean’s arms and craned over to look into Jean’s eyes.

“Want to go somewhere?” Bertolt asked.

“Sure,” Jean said.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe you can take me to Berlin. Show me where you were born.”

“Or how about we go to France? Isn’t your mom from there?”

“Yeah, Le Havre. You still didn’t answer me about Berlin.”

“Where I was born isn’t special, but if you want to go to Berlin, I’ll take you to Berlin.”

“Thanks…. It’s all right. We don’t need to go anywhere.”

“I still want to go somewhere. How about somewhere to eat?”

“Sure. Nothing shitty though.”

Bertolt shook his head and chuckled.

“Ever so vague, Mr. Kirstein. If you don’t say anything, you know what I’m going to do.”

Bertolt’s hands moved lower into Jean’s lap. He started to suck on Jean’s neck. His long fingers flirted with the zipper of Jean’s pants. Jean didn’t care. He reveled in this. He was already imagining what would transpire here on the couch and then back to their room.

“Ah… Still cheeky after all these years, Mr. Hoover,” Jean said.

“Only for you. Now come one, what is it going to be? There’s that Nepalese restaurant on the corner,” Bertolt said.

“Do they do take out?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then I don’t want it. I don’t want to leave this place. I just want you.”

“I see.”

Bertolt ignored whatever nagging hunger pains he had and took Jean to their bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed as Jean stripped. Bertolt looked over his shoulder, watching Jean in the moonlight. He finally joined Jean, taking his clothes off slowly. Jean came to him and took off Bertolt’s remaining clothing. None of this was nearly as manic as what they were doing before. Instead, it felt like what they had left off at two years ago- sad but in love. The only difference now was that this sadness was now their comfort- the only thing they could trust in.


	10. Chapter 10

Marco never went out much these days. The realization that his body was dying became more obvious, and he couldn’t really stand doing things that exerted too much energy. And to be totally honest, he couldn’t rely on his mind any more. He got confused easily and needed someone with him at all times. If he wanted to put a positive spin on that, Marco would say that at least he wouldn’t have to die alone because dying alone seemed like the worst pain imaginable.

Today Marco strolled through the park with Sasha. He held onto her arm as he looked at the trees and felt the warm breeze touch his face. It was something he could be happy about, the fresh air in his lungs and bright sunlight.

“I bet it looks kind of funny. You and me,” Marco said.

“Huh? Is it because of me? I can be less weird, but I can’t make any promises,” Sasha said.

“No. It’s just me… Even before I came out and tried to pretend to be straight, I never had a girlfriend. I did take Annie to prom. But this is a new experience.”

“Oh… I see. Wait! You took that bitchy Annie to prom? What did she wear? Did she make you wear a matching tux?”

“Yes, and don’t call her that. She wore a satin turquoise dress. It was strapless and poofy on the bottom. I think it also had a lot of glitter and sequins. They got all over my tux, which, yes, matched her dress. I had a matching turquoise vest and bowtie.”

Sasha giggled so much that she got into a coughing fit. She found the idea of Marco’s prom to be the funniest thing ever. It reminded her of her own prom. She didn’t have all the friends she had now, so she didn’t have much fun. But she imagined if she went to prom with her friends now, she would have had the time of her life. She was jealous that Marco already had those kinds of friendships early on, but it was never hard to see why Marco did.

“I think I would pay to see a picture of that,” Sasha said.

“Please don’t. It was… kind of embarrassing,” Marco said.

“All the more reason to see it.”

Marco paced around a fountain and looked at the pigeons gathered around. He thought about prom. Even though it had been a little over five years ago for him, he could remember every detail, how he felt, and the way Annie stormed out on him. So Marco blathered on about his memories, not particularly caring if Sasha was listening to him.

“I didn’t do anything with Annie… In case you were wondering. I wanted to try. Just to try. Like in case. But there wasn’t any use. I just couldn’t, if that makes sense. I did drunk-kiss Reiner that night though. He may have drunk-kissed everyone that night though. He even felt up Bertolt and made out with the prom queen before he got punched in the face by her future girlfriend. It was interesting to say the least,” Marco said.

“Sounds like it. It’s weird though. Hearing you talk about high school, but you don’t say anything about Jean. You guys seem like you’ve been friends forever- not since college,” Sasha said.

“Well… even if we would have met before college, I don’t really think the chance was ever there. He was all over the place. He actually went to high school in France. When I met him, he would accidentally speak in French even though he spoke English forever. I didn’t mind. His accent was kind of hot to be honest. But it was crazy. We just clicked when we met. I thought it was love. Nothing seemed quite as real as that. I don’t know if it really was love. It just felt like it. I don’t know. I think you know it when it happens, and that’s what I felt. Whatever… I’m still in love. I think that scares Jean. It might be why he hasn’t talked to me in a while.”

Sasha stopped Marco and pulled him back. She grabbed him by the shoulders and looked up into his arms. She looked so pissed off. Her fingernails dug into Marco’s skin. He shrugged her off and tried to ignore her. Marco walked away from Sasha before she tugged at him again.

“Fuck… is he still not talking to you?” Sasha said.

“I mean he is. Just not like he used to. Of course, we don’t live together. So that really puts a damper on things. Plus I think he might be busy. He never says… but I think he’s like up to something. Besides, you know the dying thing,” Marco said.

“Can you stop that? He should be here right now. He’s your friend. You know!”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on him. He can’t handle this kind of stuff. It’s not easy.”

“Yeah, but he’s being a complete asshole to you, and just because he has a hard time with that doesn’t mean he can be a complete fuckhead.”

“Sasha, you can only let those things bother you if you let them. And right now, it doesn’t bother me because I get what Jean is thinking. I mean. I would feel the same way if it was Jean instead of me. And honestly, I just want to make Jean happy. He’s the kind of person that has spent so much of his life miserable that it would make me feel better about leaving this place if I can see to it that he’s happy in some way.”

“Even if that means that he’s back with Bertolt?”

“What?”

“Jean hasn’t told you… that he’s back with Bertolt.”

“No… he just told me that he moved out of our old place.”

“Yeah they’re together again.”

“…I see.”

 Marco rolled his shoulders back and stared at the ground. Immediately, Sasha knew she was the asshole here. She wanted to take everything back. She wanted to rewind herself- not just to the beginning of this conversation but back to the second she laid eyes on Jean. Then she wouldn’t look at him and find herself in total lust with him, and she wouldn’t have climbed into his bed or fall in love with the way he ate her food or talked about how Sonic Youth was overrated. That way she wouldn’t be so damn jealous of Marco or Bertolt to the point where she felt the need to lash out or resent her friends.

“I’m glad for him,” Marco said.

“What?” Sasha said.

“Good for Jean. He always wrote music when he was with Bertolt. Maybe he can write something now.”

“Are you serious or are you shitting me?”

“Yeah, when I told you about me wanting Jean to be happy, all this stuff to get Jean’s band back together is just me trying get Jean to start writing music. You know that Jean went to grad school because he didn’t know what he really want to do or at last that was what he told me. Like he was seriously invested in that band. Then his dad died, and all of a sudden the band stopped playing. Then Jean and Bertolt broke up, and he asked me to go to Europe with him. And… it’s hard to say what went on, but Jean was different then. He was just… I don’t know. But I know he’ll be happy if he starts creating again. I mean. Getting a doctorate certainly has a more secure potential than being in a band… but he’ll never be satisfied the same way.”

Marco grinned and started to hum something as they started to walk again. He practically skipped, not quite looking like a man about to die or dealing with a difficult friend.

“And that put you in a good mood?” Sasha said.

“Sort of. It honestly was a song that popped in my head that made me happy. It reminded me of Jean. He once played it to me in his car,” Marco said.

“The song you’re humming?”

Marco nodded and continued to hum.

“The Replacements’ ‘Unsatisfied’. Jean had this huge Replacements phase in college. We used to sing… er well it was more like yelling… well we would always blast this tap and we wore it out because we kept on rewinding it and playing ‘Bastards of Young’ and we’d sing that song until we wore our voices out. Yeah… _We are the sons of no one. Bastards of young._   Those were some good days. I’m glad I had them,” Marco said.

“You’re so… I don’t know. Too good,” Sasha said.

“No I’m not… I’m like anyone else. I mean. I’d be lying if I say I hate Bertolt because he’s had Jean every time, and I never have. Or that I’m scared about dying because I don’t know if I can handle the idea of not existing in any way. I could go on forever about the things that bother me, but I can’t do anything about those things. So it’s useless to be upset about them. It doesn’t make me any better than anyone. In fact, I guess you could say I’m a defeatist. But that helps me handle my problems. And maybe that’s wrong of me, but I can’t help it.”

Marco stuffed his hands back into his pockets and shrugged. He chuckled awkwardly as he walked and kicked rocks across the path.

“Can you promise me some thing Sasha?” Marco said.

“Sure. What is it?” she said.

“When I die, just make sure you’re happy. Make sure Jean is happy. I think… life is too awful to go about it miserable. So I want to at least be kind of happy before it all ends.”

Sasha stared at Marco until his face started to blur. She felt tears roll down her face even though she never wanted them to be there in the first place. Marco placed a thumb on her cheeks and wiped her tears away. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly, stroking her hair.

“I’m not gone yet. So you don’t have to cry,” Marco said.

“I don’t think it works that way,” Sasha said.

Marco lightly laughed and pulled away from Sasha. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

“Hey, I’ve got something for you. I think this will make you smile,” Marco said.

Marco pulled out an envelope and cassette. He put them in Sasha’s hands and folded her fingers over, gently patting on them.

“It’s some stuff I like to listen to. You don’t have to listen to it. Actually you probably don’t have a tape player… But if you do, maybe listen to it after I go, and read that letter then. I made one for Jean too. It’s not the same as yours… obviously. But I didn’t want you to get upset if you found out that I made one for him too,” Marco said.

Sasha looked up and grinned. She shook her head and glanced up at the skies.

“No… that’s perfect. He deserves it more than me,” Sasha said.

After their walk, Sasha searched for the lone cassette player in the entire area in a thrift store. She went home and plugged the player in. She popped the tape in and pressed play in anticipation. She jumped when the music started playing. First the gentle guitar strumming and then the vocals, his voice. Jean’s voice.

_Was I in your dreams? I’d like to know._


	11. Chapter 11

Annie Leonhardt hated when people came to their band practices. She hated this even more when one of those people was making the stink eye at Bertolt. If she hated anything, she hated anyone who dared threatened Bertolt in any manner. Bertolt may have been bigger than her, but Annie took it upon herself to be his surrogate big sister. And currently Big Sister Annie Leonhardt wouldn’t mind taking a swift boot to Sasha Braus’ ass.

Sasha only went to Jean’s band practice because Marco insisted that everyone wouldn’t mind her being there. Currently she felt like Yoko Ono without a John Lennon because her would-be John Lennon was actually dating Paul McCartney. For someone who also had a crush on Jean, Marco seemed upbeat and beyond rolling his eyes every time Jean did something kind of cheesy with Bertolt. Sasha was surprised at how well the rest of the band took it. In fact, she swore she saw Annie smile when Bertolt gave Jean a quick peck.

The band took a break after practicing a few songs. Bertolt needed to talk a phone call from work, and Annie need to restring her guitar after breaking a string, along with cleaning up the cut she got from said rogue string. It went without saying that she also needed a much needed smoke break. Then Marco needed to go to the bathroom and take some medicine, and Jean left to get some food. This left Sasha with Reiner Braun, a person she knew very little about outside of the fact that if sex and lust were personified, it was probably Reiner. Then again, she also knew that Reiner was known to be a bit of a teddy bear, but she still felt uneasy as he walked around stretching. He stopped and plopped onto the couch beside Sasha. He looked over to her and grinned.

“I don’t bite. Well, not unless you want me to, and I’ll expect you to return the favor if that’s the case,” Reiner said.

Sasha recoiled and inched away from Reiner. He was a bit too much- which was saying a lot for a person like Sasha who was used to larger than life people like Reiner.

“I’m kidding. Your lady boner for Kirstein could be seen from space,” Reiner said.

“Seriously?” Sasha asked.

“Not any more obvious than the actual boners that Marco and Bertl have. Honesty, I don’t get what you guys see in him besides that ass of his. I mean, I’m very single, and I’m good with my hands. What more could you even ask for? Well for Bertl, he’d probably want me to get rid of my nipple piercings. Though you know, maybe he would dig it. Wanna see?”

“Um… maybe later.”

“Later! Yes, ma’am.”

“No! Not later. Like maybe not at all.”

Reiner laughed and punched Sasha lightly on the arm. She rubbed the spot where he punched her even though it was such a light punch that it was more of a love tap than anything. It wasn’t like Sasha didn’t think Reiner was good looking. She wasn’t blind or resistant to the sexual aura of Reiner Braun, but he was so damn forward and just comfortable about sex that it made Sasha embarrassed.

“I’m kidding you know,” Reiner said.

“Yeah… of course I did,” Sasha said.

“It’s okay to be embarrassed. It doesn’t bother me. I know what people think about me anyway. You wouldn’t be the first.”

“Have you ever thought about not being so… you know?”

“Not really. There’s no point in being a person that you aren’t.”

“Even if it means being a guy who doesn’t know the meaning of TMI?”

“Making people squirm with discomfort is one of life’s pleasures.”

“That’s really fucked up.”

“Not any more fucked up than the girl who is being ridiculously mean to the nicest guy ever.”

Sasha looked around confused and scratched her head as Reiner stared her down.

“Who’s doing that to Marco?” Sasha asked.

Reiner pointed to Sasha and shook his head.

“I’m talking about you and Bertl. Stop giving him the evil eye. It’s rude. And honestly, Annie looks like she’s about to tear your fucking head apart. If you care about your life, you will be nicer to Bertl,” Reiner said.

“You sure about that?” Sasha said.

“Yeah. Annie thinks of Bertl as her little brother, and she will do anything to make him happy. _Anything_. And right now, Bertl is happy that he is dating Jean again. He’s been the happiest when he is with Jean. What that is? Don’t ask me. We’ve been best friends since childhood, and I don’t get it. Maybe he’s a great fuck. If that’s the case, I want in.”

Sasha winced as Reiner smirked. He was awfully confident in himself, Sasha noted.

“You’re so weird,” Sasha said.

“I take pride in that. But seriously, Bertl’s kind of sensitive. He’s a good guy. I know you’re close to Marco, and I don’t know what he’s told you. Jean was the one who started everything with Bertl, and Marco probably got miffed because Jean didn’t choose him. Marco and Jean fought over it. I mean like not on talking basis fighting for like a week. And I know Marco and Annie are fine now, but she blames Marco for breaking Jean and Bertl up in the first place. Like he’s had it in for Bertl. You can take that as you want. I’m just telling you because I don’t want you to take it out on Bertl.”

“Okay. I promise not to do anything to Bertolt. Honestly, I’d rather not have Annie on my case. I just… I don’t want Marco to be so heartbroken.”

Reiner shuffled and straightened up. He looked at Sasha and shook his head. He took her hand and made her sit closer to him. His face changed into some thing so grave.

“Have you considered how Jean feels about Marco? Like it’s cool that Marco likes Jean that way, but you can’t force someone to be in love with you. It doesn’t work that way, and it never will. If it did, I’d be the one fucking Bertl right now, but it obviously doesn’t work that way. Besides, you’re fucking miserable all the time anyway because you’re constantly feeling guilty- like you forced this other person to love you. Like when I dated Bertl, I thought it was going to be the best thing that happened to either of us, but Bertl was depressed. I felt shitty constantly because I thought it was my fault and that Bertl didn’t love me enough. I had to break up with him even though I didn’t want to, but it was the best thing I ever did. Just goes to show you that you can’t make love happen,” Reiner said.

Sasha waited for Reiner to say something else, but he just sat there looking at Sasha.

“Um… I was really waiting for you to say that love happens to you, but you didn’t,” Sasha said.

Reiner slapped his thigh and started to laugh. Just then, Jean walked in with Bertolt. They were holding hands and looking slightly less on edge than they were during practice. Reiner lifted an eyebrow and looked at Sasha.

“Reiner, you’re not freaking Sasha out. Are you?” Jean said.

“Nope, just having some friendly intercourse,” Reiner said.

“No!! We weren’t doing any of that! I mean some people may have! But we weren’t!” Sasha said.

Jean rolled his eyes and picked up his guitar.

“He’s talking about talking with you, Sasha,” Jean said.

“I knew that!” Sasha said.

“Sure you did.”

“What’s wrong with you guys?” Annie said as she led Marco back into the practice space.

“Sasha and I were having excellent intercourse,” Reiner said.

“That’s still the worst fucking joke in the world, Reiner. Come on. I just got a text from Hitch, and I have to cover her shift. So we need to do two more songs before I leave,” Annie said.

Annie corralled the boys back into practice mode. They tried a few of their own songs- some of them brand new. Sasha kept looking at Reiner and then back to Marco. Marco relaxed as he listened and gave some of his opinions to the band. Sasha refused to say anything even though she wanted to ask him everything again about the history of him, Jean, and Bertolt. Some other day, she thought. Before she had the mine to even suggest taking Marco out for some coffee, band practice was over, and Jean and Bertolt were off to drop Marco at his home. Annie sneakily left for work. Again, Sasha was with Reiner. He was cleaning up after the rest of the band, looking a bit lonely. Sasha imagined that the reason why Reiner was the way he was had to be a way to just deal with his own loneliness and discomfort. She felt bad for him and even worse that she didn’t take him so seriously before.

“Hey… sorry about before,” Sasha said.

“What?” Reiner said.

“I mean, I’m sorry for acting like a bit of a jerk.”

“Not a big deal.”

“You’re actually nice.”

“I could have told you that earlier.”

Sasha giggled and helped Reiner pick up some cables.

“So are you weirdly sexual with everyone you meet?” Sasha said.

“No,” Reiner said.

Sasha looked up at Reiner who was finished up with cleaning.

“I only do that with the people I want to fuck. You don’t see me doing that to someone like say Annie,” Reiner said.

Reiner put his hand on Sasha’s shoulder and tilted his head a bit as he looked at her.

“You know… if you ever decide you don’t want Kirstein, I’m always around,” Reiner said.

Reiner then grabbed his coat and started to turn off some of the lights.

“Just let me know… We could grab a drink some time,” Reiner said.

Sasha nodded, “I will. Maybe some time soon. I’d like that a lot.”

“Thanks Braus. Even if you don’t mean it.”

Sasha smiled and left as Reiner shut off the rest of the lights. As he locked up the space, Reiner wished he could punch himself in the face. Another strike for the books.


	12. Chapter 12

Marco felt a bit bewildered this morning. Jean called him to hang out. No boyfriends. No other people. Just he and Jean and some recent heavy emotional baggage. Hanging out with Jean shouldn’t have been a strange of an idea as it was, but when Marco hung out with Jean in recent days, Sasha was always there in some form or other. But today, Marco and Jean were going to see a film and possibly grab some lunch if Marco was up for it. Marco was caught a little off guard by the request, especially because he supposed that Jean could have just gone with his boyfriend. After all, that’s what boyfriends were for. And for that, Marco bit his tongue instead of yelling at Jean for inviting him to sit next to him in a darkened room where Marco’s mind could wander into that strange fantasy- not the sexual ones that he had of Jean sometimes when he was in the bed or shower, but the fantasy about what it would be like to be in a relationship with his best friend, the one person he loved.

“Why couldn’t Bertolt go see this movie with you?” Marco asked.

“He’s at work, and he doesn’t really care for this director. At least, I don’t think he does. I never asked,” Jean said.

They went inside the theater and sat somewhat to the back where Marco and Jean always seemed to sit when they went to movies. Marco used to not be so bothered by the whole idea of going to see films with Jean. They did it all the time, and he never had the same sort of feelings surface. The sort of feelings of resentment that crept up only when Jean’s attention was devoted to someone else. He knew it was selfish and fairly unhealthy to even think that way, but he decided that if anyone deserved to be selfish for once, it was he.

After the film, Jean and Marco walked to a nearby restaurant that Marco picked out. They tried to talk about the film, but nothing seemed to come out. Marco couldn’t decide if it was the film or just how long it had been since they last just hung out the two of them. Instead they just shrugged and mumbled while they sat around and ordered food.

“So Bertolt, huh,” Marco said.

“Yeah. Bertolt,” Jean said.

“How is he?”

“Fine.”

“Oh… that’s good.”

Marco knew that this conversation was exactly the same conversation he had with Jean three or four years ago, days after Reiner let slip that Bertolt had slept with Jean. This conversation seemed a little less hurtful than the first one. Maybe that was because it already happened. Maybe it was because he knew it was inevitable. But maybe it was because he knew that he needed to let it go and let Jean have Bertolt.

The food rolled in before the conversation could go any further down the awkward path of what was going on between Jean and Bertolt. It gave Marco an excuse to pretend that the conversation was completely stale. He didn’t know why that was, just that it was happening.

“How are things… like outside of… you know,” Jean said.

“Fine… I guess. I mean. Yeah. It’s not bad,” Marco said.

“But it’s kind of heavy?”

“A little, but I might be a bit more philosophical than before. I didn’t even have to pay money. Though I won’t anyway. They discharge your student loans if you die. Perks of death I guess. Sorry for being a bit morbid. I guess that’s my way of coping.”

“Going outside the Kubler-Ross thing?”

“For me, that’s kind of bullshit. I am whatever I am. Some days I’m depressed and some days I’m okay. I accept things as they are, but I’m no less depressed or whatever. Maybe that’s just the treatment. But I’m fine… That’s how it goes.”

“You don’t have to be the hero. It’s okay to shit your pants over this. I can accept that over that Zen bullshit you just spouted.”

Marco rolled his eyes and poked at his food. He had waited to hear Jean say something like that for the longest. For one, it was classic Jean Kirstein. But more important than that, it felt so normal. He had been living with this disease for months, and Jean’s off-the-cuff response was the first thing anyone had said that made Marco feel like he wasn’t being walked around delicately. He wanted to throw his arms around Jean and hug him for just being himself. Instead, he finished his meal and smiled to himself about how much he was thankful for Jean Kirstein.

After their meal, the two walked down the street, trying to make stupid jokes like they used to. Some of the older stories and jokes held up, but the new things seemed so weird to talk about – like somehow these things just weren’t funny in the first place. Nostalgia did something funny to their senses of humor, Marco thought.

“What happened to us?” Jean said.

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Marco said.

Jean rolled his eyes and pushed Marco a bit.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Jean said.

“Maybe,” Marco said.

“It’s really weird when I think that we’ve been friends since we were like 18. We’re almost 30… or at least over half way to 30.”

“So?”

“I’m just saying. Things are really different now.”

“Oh…”

“Mainly me. So don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t say that. You know the second you tell someone not to worry, then the other person is going to worry.”

“That’s not what I meant… I meant like don’t think that it’s you that I’m talking about. I know not everyone is as messed up as me and has to think that every little thing someone might say is actually about them.”

“Jean… it’s okay. You’re fine.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Jean, don’t worry about it.”

Jean smirked and muffled a laugh.

“Now you’re the one telling me not to worry. I mean… I know kind of what’s wrong with me. I’m a total jackass and fuck up, and I’m emotionally unstable. So I can’t be there for you like I should, and I know I’m a shit friend. I don’t really know how to be better because all the things I know I should be doing make me feel like shit. Like we should hang out all the time, but I can’t. And it’s not the cancer. I realized that it’s because I don’t know if things are going to ever get better between us. Because you’ve stopped at one point in life, and I’m at a completely different point. And we will never be at the same point ever again. And maybe we were always going to drift apart, but I don’t to know if that was inevitable.”

“That’s funny… You really feel that way. Even if it might be your fault in the first place.”

“I know it’s my fault. It’s my fault for a lot of things, but I also know that I can’t lie to you. That’s how I feel. Do you still… Do you still love me?”

Marco felt the tears roll down his face. He kept looking at Jean. Jean Kirstein was just as beautiful as he was when Marco first met him. Marco wished it had been raining because he always loved how Jean looked in the rain. He just wanted things to be perfect for just one moment, even if it was painful.

“Always. No matter what. I love you. I’ll love you when you and I grow apart. I’ll love you even if you hate me. I’ll love you even when I’m dead and cease to exist in any way. But I love you, and I love you despite knowing I shouldn’t. I can’t help it. And if you hate me for that, it won’t change anything. I’ll still feel the same way,” Marco said.

Jean smiled and took Marco by the shoulders. He wiped Marco’s tears and softly laid his lips on Marco’s for what Marco considered the tenderest kiss he had ever received in his life. When Jean pulled away, Marco put his fingers on his lips.

“That’s the second time you’ve kissed me,” Marco said.

Jean shrugged, completely unfazed by the whole act.

“It was different,” Marco said.

It was. This kiss was simply full of love. Maybe not the love Marco was looking for from Jean, but he knew it. Jean Kirstein loved Marco Bott.


	13. Chapter 13

Marco smiled because he knew it. There was something about the way days slowed down now. He was sure it was happening. He could cry about it, but he came to terms with it quite some time ago since the diagnosis. He was sitting in the hospital to run more tests after he collapsed the other day. His parents had some business to take care- work and just general squaring off of Marco’s affairs that they typically didn’t have time to work on since they spent most of their time just trying to take care of Marco. So Marco called Jean to take him to the hospital. Jean was rattled. He said something about having a bad feeling. Marco played it off even though Jean had to basically carry him in, and his health was quickly failing. He wasn’t in denial. He just didn’t want to go out like a sore loser.

Jean made calls to Marco’s family while nurses and doctors were attending to Marco. At this point, the goal wasn’t survival. Now, it was just a matter of how comfortable everyone could make Marco in his last moments. So far, Marco would say he felt very comfortable even though everyone around him wasn’t. Specifically, he thought of Jean. He and Jean were sitting in the hospital room with Jean biting his nails and scratching his thighs. Marco knew that Jean. He knew it was the Jean that cried and was scared out of his mind.

“Hey Jean…” Marco said.

Jean perked up and turned to Marco.

“Hey what’s up? Are you okay? Do you need me to get the nurses? Your parents told me they were on their way, but I don’t know how long it will be for them to get here,” Jean said.

Marco shook his head and put his hands up.

“Nothing. I’m cool. Nothing else,” Marco said.

“Are you sure?” Jean asked.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

“What did your doctor say?”

Marco didn’t say anything. He just looked away. Jean knew it at this point. He couldn’t deny the reality or inevitability of it all. Of course he knew things would end at this point. He just didn’t think it would come to him so fast. Just then, he started to cry. Tears and tears just fell on his cheeks and blurred his vision. He wanted to stop, and be the one to hold up Marco, but he reverted back to his old self- the ten-year-old crybaby who would run into his mother’s arms at first chance.

“I’m really sorry… I want to be better for you right now,” Jean said.

Jean’s voice cracked over the tears. His throat felt so crowded- he thought he was choking. Marco simply smiled and reached out for Jean’s hand.

“Stay with me like this,” Marco said.

“Okay. Just… don’t die on me,” Jean said.

“No promises. But I’ll try.”

Jean nodded and squeezed Marco’s hand. Marco squeezed back and closed his eyes to let the moment sink. Jean leaned in and kissed Marco, his tears falling on Marco’s face. Marco’s eyes fluttered open in surprise, but again, he simply smiled and laughed a little.

“Third time,” Marco said.

“You count each time?” Jean says.

“Obviously. Because they’re all very special. I know that sounds stupid, but they’re special to me. They also mean all sorts of things to me, and they were perfect for me in each of those moments.”

“I’ve kissed you more than three times. I think… Budapest.”

“I don’t count the hostel. You were drunk.”

“Sorry about that. I was an asshole… like I always am.”

Marco rolled his eyes and pulled Jean closer to him so he could bury himself in Jean.

“You are, but I wouldn’t want to be the friend of a Jean Kirstein that wasn’t an asshole. It’s always made you interesting and sweet,” Marco said.

Jean blushed and laughed a little.

“Maybe we should talk about something else. You know? So you don’t have to die being like, ‘my last moments on earth were talking with that motherfucker Jean Kirstein and it was all about him because he’s such a self-absorbed asshole,” Jean said.

Marco laughed. It was sort of like a song that was incredible beautiful, haunting, and comforting all at once. Marco’s laughs always made Jean feel better, but this one struck Jean’s heart and pulled at ever little part of his body.

“I would rather talk about a person I love than be sucked into something that’s draining. But if it would make you feel better, we can talk about something else,” Marco said.

“Come on… Just talk about whatever you want talk about, or else I’m going to talk about that time you pissed your pants laughing at that dumb joke Reiner told you back at that party where let some ugly ass blonde with shitty sideburns kiss you. If I remember, you went home with him…” Jean said.

“I’d rather talk about you a million times over than talk about a guy who might have given me one of the worst nights of sex in my life. That includes my first time where I didn’t use enough lube and both parties involved were crying by the time it was said and done.”

“Crying? Really?”

“Really.”

“Marco, you never cease to be interesting.”

“I’ve always tried a little. Hence this ordeal.”

Marco gestured to the machines around him.

“I don’t know why that kind of stuff is the stuff I remember before I go. I guess that’s how that always goes. You remember the worst things instead of the good ones. Like the other day, my mom was talking about this pet we had, and I don’t remember anything about it. It just made my mom cry,” Marco said.

Then Marco reached into his sweatshirt pocket and pulled out a tape and envelope. He smiled to himself before placing the items into Jean’s hands.

“Here, I forgot to give this to you. I put it in my pockets before we came here, but I didn’t remember why I had it in my pockets until just now. Again, sometimes I just can’t get it right at the moment,” Marco said.

Looking down into his hands, Jean nodded and put the tape and envelope in his jacket pocket.

“I’ll listen to that,” Jean said.

“I know you will. I hope it will inspire you a bit,” Marco said.

“Inspire me?”

“Yeah. You have always been unsure about where you want to be in life, but I know that you’ll find what you really want in life. And I hope that it makes you happy more than anything else, and perhaps it will even touch others.”

“You know that I can’t promise that. I don’t think I’m as good as you say.”

Marco shrugged and sank into his pillow.

“Well, I know you’re totally wrong on that, and you can’t argue with a dying man. So Jean… can I ask you a favor?” Marco said.

“Sure,” Jean said.

“Sing me something.”

“What do you want me to sing?”

“Anything. I just want to hear you sing.”

Jean nodded and started to think about the first song that came into his head. _I can hear so much in your sighs. And I can see so much in your eyes._ Jean pulled Marco’s hand close to his face as sang. _There are words we both could say._ He kissed Marco’s fingertips and cried. Every little note and word wrapped itself in love and sadness. _Being here with you feels so right. We could live forever tonight. Let’s not think about tomorrow._ He meant everything he sang. _Don’t talk, put your head on my shoulder._ With the last note, he kissed Marco one last time.

“I love you, Marco,” Jean said.

Marco’s eyes were tearing up. His breathing seemed shallow and deep all at once. Just slow breaths that didn’t seem like they could fill anyone’s lungs.

“I love you too. Always,” Marco said.

 Jean couldn’t really remember the next moments. He was just swimming inside his head at image of Marco smiling, looking at Jean. His eyes were stuck there, voided. The right thing would have been to close his eyelids and let Marco sleep forever, but Jean sat entranced at Marco, placing his fingers on his lips and onto Marco’s.

“Six. That’s a good number. That’s what you said,” Jean said.

The door creaked open, and Jean spun around to see Marco’s parents crying and beyond consoling. He stole Marco’s last moments from them, and Jean knew it. So he stormed past them and out of the hospital. He pulled out his phone and started to call people.

“Hey…” Jean said.

“Hello? Jean?” Sasha said.

“Mar…”

“What?”

“Marco. He died…”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-“

“Yeah.”

Jean hung up before he could even finish saying anything. He didn’t really have anything to say. What could there be to say? So he ran as far as his legs could take him- out by the lakeshore where it was gray and the water was choppy. He sat on a bench and then pulled out the envelope from his pocket. He wanted to read everything, but he didn’t. He wasn’t ready to hear what he needed to hear the most, and he knew he wouldn’t be. He wasn’t ready to heal. He wasn’t ready for this or anything. But then again, no one could be except Marco. Just Marco. Like always.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mega apologies from me and this long break between updates- I basically had to rework the story. So hopefully that won't happen now that I've fixed most of what I'm trying to do.

Jean sat in the dark of Bertolt’s room. He wanted the tears to pour out of his eyes and just look like he was sad. Instead, he just felt so numb. How was a person supposed to feel at these times? Jean wanted to know. He never could get it right- not for his dad and not for his best friend. He collapsed on the bed and listened to music, hoping to get some great realization about life and death and grieving. Instead, he stared up at nothing and hugged himself while hearing Morrissey warble. _They were born. And then they lived. And then they died. It seems so unfair. I want to cry._

In the middle of the night, Jean woke up. He realized he had slept the whole entire day. Bertolt was already sleeping, lightly snoring and wrapping his arms and legs around Jean’s body. Jean noticed he was covered in sweat and breathing heavily as if he had ran a marathon. His movements woke up Bertolt who frowned as his eyes readjusted and saw Jean exasperated.

“Hey… you okay? I mean… not about you know. But like… okay with like sleeping and stuff,” Bertolt said.

“Not really. It’s not your fault. I’m just…” Jean said.

Bertolt placed his hand on Jean’s back. His thumb rubbed down Jean’s spine as Jean bent forward, hiding his head in his arms.

“When your dad died, I wanted to say something. I didn’t think it was right at the time. So I didn’t say it then, but I think it’s fine now,” Bertolt said.

“Huh?” Jean turned around, his mouth agape.

“You know, one of my best friends in high school died in a car accident. I was in the car along with Reiner. We were hit by a speeding semi truck, practically head on. Reiner and I were unconscious when it happened, but our friend Marcel died there at the scene. The coroner said it was pretty much instantaneous, but I can feel like I remember Marcel screaming right before. I don’t think that’s a sound you ever forget. Anyway, there isn’t a day where I don’t think about that because it’s something that always sticks to me. And with Marco, it’s probably going to be the same. Maybe not exactly, but if you’re wondering if I know how it feels, I do.”

“How come you never told me that before?”

“I didn’t really think it would reach you back then. Not like it does now.”

“Thanks Bertl.”

“Jean, I’m here. It’s not going to be like the last time. Okay?”

“That was my fault. You know it was. I mean, it’s always my fault.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not. It was just a different time. Things are different. I’m not leaving you even if you want to.”

“Bertl…”

Jean collapsed back onto the bed.

“Marco’s dad asked me to give Marco’s eulogy,” Jean said.

His eyes closed as Bertolt scooted in closer.

“You said yes, I assume. If you did, then you don’t have to worry about it. You always say the right things when it comes down to it,” Bertolt said.

Jean nodded and smiled through the tears that were finally coming to him. The tears welled in his eyes because those words that Bertolt gave him were the kind of words he expected out of Marco. He knew he missed Marco, and that he would miss him forever. Bertolt’s hands reached out to Jean’s face to wipe the tears away- to comfort Jean the way he wanted to the last time this happened to them.

The day of the funeral, Jean left early to meet with Marco’s family. They asked him to come early and be a part of some of the more private family ceremonies. He didn’t know why even though part of him had an idea. He stood around the funeral parlor awkwardly until his friends started to walk in. They all put their arms around Jean, but he wasn’t sure if he even deserved this. He needed this to all end, but he needed to be stronger for Marco’s parents who had pulled Jean aside to tell him how much they appreciated his presence. It was the kind of thing that made Jean ashamed that he was a coward.

 The white lilies seemed to float in the wind. The skies were muted in grays, and everyone seemed to know that it was going to rain. Jean tightened his tie and followed the procession. He fumbled around with the radio before putting in a tape. He felt jolted when he heard the song playing. He had held back crying before but tears easily rolled off his cheeks as he heard the lyrics: _Well I’m afraid. It doesn’t make me smile. I wish I could laugh. But that joke isn’t funny anymore._

“God, Marco, why’d you have to fucking die?” Jean said as he slapped the steering wheel.

He was almost too depressed to be pissed that the cassette playing in his car was a mix tape that Marco had made for him. Stupid messages from a dead man were haunting Jean, and he hadn’t even put his body in a grave yet.

When procession stopped at the cemetery, Jean sat in his car listening to the music before he pried himself from the car and walked out. The cemetery was as quiet as one would hope for, with willow trees and their branches swaying in the wind.

In the corner of his eye, Sasha stood by Connie, Armin, Mikasa, and Eren. She was crying but not the obvious sobbing Jean did. Instead, it looked like tears streamed from her eyes as if she was trying her hardest not to breakdown, only rolling down when she blinked.

Jean pulled out the worn piece of notebook paper from his coat pocket and unfolded it. His tears dotted across the lines and started to bleed with the black ink. He looked at Marco’s parents before he got in front of the crowd, standing in front of Marco’s casket. There was the faint scent of white lily of the valley that oddly comforted Jean. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he nodded at Marco’s parents to begin.

“I… I think I’m the last person people want to give a eulogy, but maybe that’s because I’m actually thinking about myself and how I don’t know what people would say about me in that case. But that just goes to show you what kind of guy Marco was. He never saw the terrible things about people- just the good things. He always believed in me even when I couldn’t do the same for myself. Sorry. What I think I’m trying saying is that Marco has touched everyone here in some way or another. He was anyone’s friend who wanted it. He didn’t do that out of an obligation or because he felt bad for you. He did it because he genuinely wanted to be your friend. He would be there with you through the good and the bad. I didn’t know Marco my whole life, but I knew him well enough to catch a glimpse of what he probably was like before then- probably the same guy I met in college who insisted that we hang out and that we stick together throughout our four years of undergrad. And we did. It was some of the best times of my entire life. He gave us those moments- each and every one of us. I know each of us have a special memory of Marco to keep with us forever, a special part of our hearts that will always ache knowing that there is something missing. I know Marco wouldn’t want us to cry over him or miss him. He would want us to go on living and make the best of our lives. So I will live on, and keep Marco’s memory with me as I do as I hope each of you do as well.”

Sasha wanted to grab Jean just then. Pull him away and keep him safe from anything, she just wanted to make sure he was okay. She knew she didn’t really have the right to say anything to Jean- especially how she treated him before Marco died. But being right in that way didn’t really stop her from trying. She blamed that on her being stubborn. So she chased after Jean finished speaking, but as she walked closer, she noticed Bertolt grab Jean’s sleeve and kissed him on the cheek. Jean leaned into Bertolt and enclosed his arms around Bertolt. Another lost chance, Sasha thought as she saw Bertolt follow Jean to his car. She felt lonelier than ever watching the two of them leave. She knew why, and it made her hate herself more when she thought about it. This would be a time where she would need Marco, and that’s why it hurt the way it did.


End file.
